Jealousy: The Walter C Dolnez Chronicles
by DuchessRaven
Summary: The path Walter walked, from his first day in Hellsing to his final betrayal, all for his obsession with and unrequited love for one vampire. YWxGC, WxA, AxI
1. Chapter 1

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this story follows Walter's path from the day he entered Hellsing to his final confrontation with Alucard. It's my take on why Walter did what he did, and how he went from faithful butler to traitor, all because of Alucard. There is a drawing on my Deviantart site to go with this chapter.

Enjoy & Review!

CH 1

_1937_

The first time he laid eyes on her, she was nude. Every inch of her flaw less white skin was laid out for him to see. Back then, at seven years old, he already knew that she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen and ever will see.

It had started out as a bad day. A very bad day, indeed. He remembered the sunny skies and green trees passing by the car windows as the orphanage's head mistress sat next to him. She was a stern, sharp woman and she didn't like him. She didn't say a word as the car pulled in front of the mansion. He didn't understand why he was there, but he was certain it was because he did something wrong.

All of his belongings, what little of it there was, were stuffed inside a canvas bag. He had carried it to the car himself because neither the lady nor the driver could be bothered with it. The beautiful day did nothing to brighten his mood or allay the fear in his heart. The mansion seemed huge back then.

The headmistress waited for the driver to open the door for her, then motioned for him to follow as she climbed out. He dragged the canvas bag after him. The strap was much too long.

"Hurry along," she snapped. "Must you always be so troublesome, Walter?"

He nodded and quickened his step. At the front door he slowed. The house was so enormous and foreboding that he felt it was going to swallow him up. After a stern glare from the headmistress, he entered, keeping his head low.

The foyer was massive. Its walls were covered with prized paintings. A winding staircase led upward.

"Wait here," said the headmistress.

He gripped his bag tightly, seeking some source of comfort from it. "Please don't leave me alone, Miss Madeline," he begged in a small voice.

The woman shook her head, as if annoyed at his cowardice. A maid in a black uniform appeared. She exchanged words with Miss Madeline. He waited for them to finish, hoping one of them would give him some indication as to why he was here. But the maid led Miss Madeline up the stairs without a glance at him.

He stood in the foyer alone. Silence echoing all around him.

He ought to stay up, but, as he gazed down the endless halls, curiosity took over. There was not a soul in sight, and though the air was warm, the whole place had a chilling feel to it. If he moved, Miss Madeline would get mad when she returned. But part of him had already decided that if he was in trouble, he might as well make the most of it. For all he knew, he was being sold to this house to be cooked for dinner.

And that was how he came to roam the halls, peering into one room after another. For such a big house, it was surprisingly empty. Here or there he saw a maid, but most of the rooms appeared to be empty, filled with shelves of books and strange equipment.

It was at the end of the East hall that he came across the sterile room.

It was completely white and extremely cold. When he pushed open the door he couldn't help but shudder. There were no furniture in the room save for a single metal table, the kind used for autopsies in morgues. Lined along the wall were metal shelves holding various surgical instruments. Their gleaming tips suddenly made him very afraid. It was like a horror movie, where pretty girls were carved up by doctors with eye patches.

And there _was_ a girl. She was lying on the metal table, and she had spotted him before he spotted her.

"Well, well," she said, "and what are you doing in here?"

His first instinct should have been to run, for the sight before him was quite gruesome. The girl was stark naked, every inch of skin exposed, lying on her back. At least a dozen needles connected to two dozen tubes were embedded into her skin. They stuck out of her legs, her arms, even her chest. There was a neat open wound on her side that may have been made with a scalpel, and another on her chest. At least a dozen stitches lined her right thigh. She looked like a mutilated corpse.

And yet, he couldn't look away. Somehow, despite all the blood and needles, she looked perfectly at peace. Seeing him, she sat up, pulling the tubes along with her, and rolled onto her stomach, her feet in the air as if they were conversing on a warm beach. Her hair was long and black, and her eyes were red. She had a boy's body, lean and flat, but he could tell she was a young girl, perhaps thirteen years old.

"You look like you're lost," she said, resting her chin on one hand. He gazed uncomfortably at the wound on her chest. "Oh, let me fix that."

And just like that, the wound closed, knitting itself flawlessly right before his eyes. Leaning, she pulled the needles out of her arms and legs and laid them aside. The holes on her body closed, as did the one on her side. Less than a minute after he entered, she went from a disfigured Frankenstein to a porcelain doll with ruby eyes. He watched in amazement as she yanked the stitches out of her leg.

"I hate these things. They sting like hell going in."

He studied her. She did the same to him, with an amused smile on her peach lips. Finally, he asked, "Are you sick?"

She laughed. In the days to come, he would hear her wild laughter nearly every day. "Of course not. Where would you get an idea like that?"

"You had needles in you. Needles are for when you're sick."

She extended one finger and curled it three times, motioning for him to come forward. He did willingly. She put her finger under his chin and tilted his head upward. "You have good eyes," she said.

He blushed. "Thank you."

"But rest assured that I'm not sick. This is just an experiment they're doing."

"Who's 'they'?"

She winked at him and swung her legs over the edge of the table. "That's something you don't need to learn right away, but you'll know eventually. What's your name?"

"Walter."

"I like that name," she said, twirling a lock of hair around her finger, as if completely unaware that she wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing.

"Who are you?"

"Me?" she replied. "I'm just a common warmonger. If I see you again, I'll tell you my name. Deal?"

oOo

"That child is a menace."

Arthur Hellsing stifled a yawn and rested his chin on his hand lazily. He didn't like this woman. She wore her hair in a stuffy bun, dressed like she just stepped out of the eighteenth century, and talked like she had a ruler stuck up where the sun doesn't shine. He rolled his eyes, drummed his fingers on the desk, and wished he could turn around and stare out the window as the woman kept speaking in her shrill, unpleasant voice.

"I'm aware of all that," he said when she stopped to catch a breather. "If I didn't know better, I would think you're reluctant to part with him."

The woman laughed. "Ha!" she screeched. "I cannot wait to get rid of him, but I want to make sure that _you_ know what you're getting into, taking in a child like that. Do you know what he did? Do you know…"

"I know," Arthur cut in. She looked quite offended, but he really couldn't care less. "Trust me when I say I have looked into the matter fully before making my decision."

The woman snorted. "Far be it from me to question you, then. Just know that if you're not satisfied, there is no giving him back, and…"

"And you should not speak of him like he is a commodity."

The woman nearly jumped out of her seat at the voice that came directly behind her. Arthur rubbed his temples. He had instructed that the vampire be kept busy during Madam Madeline's visit, but it seemed no one could stop the vampire from doing what she wanted. As least she used the door this time.

Alucard approached her master's desk and stood beside Madam Madeline. She looked the woman up and down. "You are quite the presumptuous person to question decisions made by the master of the house. Need I remind you that you are a guest?"

Madam Madeline scoffed as if supremely offended. She sat up straighter in the chair, trying to cast an air of indignation. "Sir Hellsing," she said, already recovering from the initial shock of Alucard's sudden appearance, "your daughter is quite rude. If this is the way you raise children in this house, then…"

"It's not of your concern," said Arthur, cutting her off yet again. Alucard glanced at her smugly. "I have the paperwork taken care of already, so if you could just leave the boy with me, I would be most grateful. Also, this" - he pointed at Alucard - "is not my daughter, and please refrain from referring to her as such. It's bad for my health."

The woman started to say something, but Arthur ignored her and addressed Alucard. "Did you come across the boy?"

She nodded and grinned. "He found me on his own. I was quite impressed."

"You didn't scare him out of his wits, did you?"

"Why, of course not." Glancing at Madam Madeline, Alucard winked as if sharing an inside joke with her. The woman flinched. "Though those research doctors left me in quite a frightful state, he wasn't a bit fazed. In fact, I told him to come. He will be up shortly."

oOo

The winding stairs were very, very tall and never seemed to end. Walter scaled them the way a mountaineer might scale the Himalayas.

For a minute or so he almost forgot about the fact that he was in trouble. He was thinking about that girl, with black flowing hair and needles sticking out of her body. The impression she left on him was short but lasting. After their short introduction, she had hopped off the table and told him to come upstairs, then walked out. When he chased after her into the hall, she had already disappeared. There were many questions he wanted to ask her. What "warmonger" meant, to start with.

Reaching the top floor, he suddenly realized that he didn't know where to go, but the answer seemed obvious. To his left, sitting like a slumbering giant, was a set of thick massive doors. Standing in front of it, he felt like a morsel about to be devoured. All at once he remembered why he was here. He was about to be in a lot of trouble.

He swallowed and considered running away, but then a voice filled his head.

_Come in, already_.

He jumped, looked around, and saw no one. Did it sound familiar? He wasn't sure. Clenching his fists, he decided it was his own imagination, and leaned against the heavy door. It swung open much more easily than he anticipated. He stumbled and nearly fell on his face. Quickly composing himself, he stood straight in what he hoped was a dignified manner.

The door opened to a cavernous office. To his left were a line of massive bookshelves packing with books and materials, some as thick as his arm. To his right, various portraits hung on the wall. One of which, he saw, was of the man currently sitting behind a large desk directly in front of him. Madam Madeline was sitting in a chair that looked as stiff as she was, eyeing him with her usual mild distain.

Standing next to the desk, hands linked behind her back, was the dark-haired girl. He couldn't imagine how she got up here so quickly, and having dressed herself to boot. She was wearing a white suit and ankle boots. Atop her head, she wore a white pillbox hat. The whole ensemble contrasted against her raven hair like snow against coal.

The man raised a hand and gestured for him to come closer. He looked about thirty years old, with sleek hair and a wide smile. The girl winked at him as he took a few steps forward.

"Walter, right?" the man asked. He nodded timidly. "Stop shuffling your feet, you're not in trouble."

He forced his feet together and planted them firmly to the ground.

"Now then," the man said. "I just heard a story about you and was wondering if it's true. Can you tell me what happened between you and… what was his name?"

"Donald," said Madam Madeline. "Donald Smythe."

Walter remembered Donald Smythe. He was a big kid, at least twice his size, and was the most stereotypical bully one could find. He had blazing red hair and too many freckles, and if there was a heart of gold in him, it was being smothered under at least thirty pounds of fat.

"Yes, sir," he said in a small voice, sneaking glances at the girl. She hasn't said anything yet.

"What happened to Donald, Walter?" the man asked. He didn't sound angry, just curious, which gave him a bit of courage.

"He's dead, sir."

"And how did he die?"

He looked at Madame Madeline. "I took a rope," he said slowly, expecting her to shush him at any time. "And I tied a knot." He mimicked the act. "And I threw it over his head. And pulled."

The girl burst out laughing. He started, and saw the shock and horror on Madam Madeline's face. The man behind the desk simply sat back. Walter looked around in confusion. The next thing he knew, the girl was behind him, her arms wrapped around his torso. She pressed him against her like a stuffed toy.

"Did you hear that, Master?" she said to the man, a wide grin on her face. "Wasn't it grand? Wasn't it absolutely amazing? There was someone he didn't like, so he made a noose and hung him until he died. Oh, how I adore him."

He blushed. No one has ever said they adored him before. She leaned down and touched her cheek to his. She was surprisingly cold.

"Will we keep him, master?" she asked with a giggle. "He'd be ever so much fun."

"Wait a minute!" Madam Madeline snapped to her feet. "This is preposterous. You can't tell me that you condone that sort of..."

The girl's face suddenly turned hard. She straightened and leveled her eyes on Madam Madeline, her arms still linked loosely around Walter's shoulders. "Sit down, old woman," she said chillingly.

Madame Madeline's eyes glazed over. She slumped down into the chair like a dead weight, nearly missing it. If she tumbled onto the floor, Walter thought she wouldn't have noticed. The man behind the desk made a gesture toward him.

"We'll deal with her later," he said casually. "Walter, I see you've already met your new playmate. She will fill you in on the ins and outs of this house. We've scoured the country to find a child like you, Walter. Don't disappoint us."

He wasn't sure what that meant, but the girl squeezed his shoulders and he nodded obediently. Her lips touched his ear and he trembled at their coldness.

"My name," she whispered, "as I promised, is Alucard."


	2. Chapter 2

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this story got a much better reception than I anticipated. Hope you'll all keep reading and reviewing! Also, the first part of this story should have gone with the last chapter. That's a "oops" on my part.

Enjoy & Review!

CH 2

The man rolled his eyes. "She's a vampire. Don't let her bite you, got it?" That was, literally, his formal introduction to the vampire world. With that one statement, Arthur had brought him into a world he'd never known before. At a young age, a human mind tended to accept anything it heard as a fact, which was exactly what Walter did. From that moment on, vampires became a reality.

"And Alucard?" She was rubbing against him like a cat, examining him curiously. "Alucard!" She snapped to attention. "Don't eat him."

"I wouldn't dream of it, master." Cupping his face in her gloved hands, she turned his gaze to her red eyes. Later, he would remember that, up until that day, he had felt nothing warmer than her cold embrace. "I can already see the power in him. He will be very, very strong, and he's already had his first taste of bloodshed. I think he will be a fitting killer."

"I can trust him in your care for the time being then?"

She nodded. "Of course." She gave him a joking smile. "You are mine now. You will be my new playmate, my partner, my toy, and belong to me heart, body, and soul, OK?"

"OK," Walter said quite seriously.

oOo

The room was warm and cozy, but Walter shivered nonetheless. Sitting in a corner by the pristine bed with clean sheets, he wondered what he should do next.

He was angry, angry in the way only a seven-year-old could be. He was angry that he didn't know what was going on and had been left here without his consent. No one told him why he was here or how long he'll be here. Madam Madeline may never come back again, and he had been thrust into a new life without warning. He hated it. Hated not having control over anything.

Wiping away tears with the back of his hand, he got to his feet and looked around. He hated this room. It didn't feel like home. Not that any place ever did, but at least at the orphanage there were other kids around, and he wasn't always alone. Now he was cut off from the only place he was ever halfway comfortable in.

In a fit of rage he grabbed the nearest thing he could lift - the small lamp on the nightstand, and threw it as far as he could. It flew half way across the room and smashed in a burst of glass and ceramic pieces. The sound actually made him jump, but in many ways it was satisfying. He had been taught not to destroy other people's property, but what did he care? No one cared what he did anyway. He was already abandoned for killing someone. What else could they do to him?

Climbing over the bed, he grabbed the other lamp and it met the same fate as its mate. Then went the desk lamp, the drawers in the small dresser, and the ceramic mugs a maid had brought earlier. Everything he could get his hands on and lift he dashed against the floor. It felt good.

"You're making a ruckus."

His arm froze in the middle of the smashing the last mug. He looked up to see the figure on his bed.

She was still wearing that white ensemble, though having dispensed with her hat. Smirking, she leaned against the headboard and crossed her legs, running a hand through her long hair. Walter blanched, looked left, then looked right, finally down at the mug in his hand.

"Put it down."

He set it on the edge of the desk obediently and turned back to her, suddenly feeling very small and embarrassed. She leaned forward and gestured for him to come close. When he did hesitantly, she lifted his dipped chin with one finger. Her name, what was her name…

"Alucard," she said. Had she read his mind? "My name is Alucard. Memorize it. Did you know that I sleep right downstairs, Walter?" he shook his head, feeling the burning heat in her cheeks. "How do you expect me to sleep when you're up here making so much noise? Besides, it's not very nice to break all these nice things. My master had them special-ordered for you."

He burst into tears. It had been years since he cried. As long as he'd remembered, no matter what happened, no matter how hungry or cold he was or how hard Donald Smythe picked on him, he never cried. But now, in front of her, he suddenly felt sad. She was different. She made him feel vulnerable like no one ever had.

Alucard rolled her eyes. "Good Lord," she muttered through gritted teeth.

He kept crying. He wanted to stop but the tears kept coming. He wiped his eyes and nose with his hands until they were red and raw. Sighing, Alucard reached down, lifted him up off the floor as if he weighed no more than a rag doll, and set him in her lap.

"Just so you know," she said, holding him around the waist and resting her head on top of his, "I hate kids. But since master said I had to get acquainted with you, I have to make an exception. I think I could like you, but you have to be a good boy and keep quiet up here, or I'll eat you when the master's back is turned."

He giggled through his tears.

"Do you think I'm joking?"

He shook his head quickly.

"Good." Without warning, she dumped him out of her lap onto the bed roughly. He scrambled to sit up and scooted next to her. "Now, since you woke me up early today, you'll have to relieve my boredom. Tell me, what do you do for fun besides strangling other kids?"

He thought about the schoolyard games he used to play with other kids at the orphanage. Somehow, he didn't think Alucard would be very impressed with Duck, Duck, Goose and hopscotch.

She scoffed. "Nothing? Alright then, let _me_ show you something."

Before he could ask questions, she pounced on him and grabbed him around the waist again. Then, the world blurred. They were moving, but also not moving. The floor and bed fell away as they drifted toward the ceiling, then through it. He clung onto her tightly as they seeped through wall after wall like water through sponges.

When it stopped, he felt her arms melt away. Looking around, he saw that they were standing in the massive office once more. However, this time around, they were alone.

Alucard left his side and went to the large writing desk. She hopped onto it and sat with her legs crossed. "This is the master's office," she said. "Remember that. This is where the most important decisions of Hellsing are made by its director."

"Hellsing?"

"You'll learn." Turning, she laid down on her stomach and fumbled in the drawers on the other side. "I know he's got some… ah-ha!"

When she sat up again, there was a small object in her hand. A pack of half-empty cigarettes. He watched her fumble around some more for a lighter, then light it and put it between her lips. She gestured for him to come forward. When he did, she took the cigarette out of her mouth, blew a small puff of smoke into the air, and offered it to him.

"Here."

He looked at it, then at her smiling face. He really, really didn't want to offend her. "Um," he muttered in a small voice. "Madam Madeline said smoking is bad."

Alucard scoffed. "That wrinkled old witch? Look at her, she's the result of what happens to you when you're too uptight to enjoy life. You don't want to wind up like her, do you?" He shook his head vigorously. "Good." She took another drag and held it out for him again.

Walter scratched his head, then took it hesitantly. He put it in his mouth, inhaled, then coughed until he felt like his lungs were going to leap out. Alucard laughed crisply.

"You need practice," she said, hopping off the table.

"This isn't fun," he said, gagging.

She smiled sneakily. "Not yet. It will be soon."

She shoved the pack of cigarettes into his hand, then turned on her heels and walked out. Walter stood alone in the massive office, unsure of what to do. He looked at the package, then at the lit cigarette in his hand.

"Hey!"

His eyes snapped up. The man he had seen before was standing at the door, a scowl in his face. He quickly thought of a way to hide the cigarettes, but it was too late. The man was already in front of him.

"I don't care what Alucard told you," he said, "you smoke those _outside._"  



	3. Chapter 3

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Supposedly, Hirano once said at an interview that Alucard took a female form so Arthur could date "her". I don't know if that ever happened, or if he was joking or not, but for the sake of this story, it's true. And it's really not all that out there. Arthur being the horn dog he is, and Alucard being a very sexual creature, it's very likely that they had a sexual relationship from time to time.

Enjoy & Review!

CH 3

_1940_

He'd cut his finger again. Walter let the microfilaments drop into the snow, where they were barely visible against the powdery white. He lifted his hand up. That made three times today. Blood was seeping across his palm from the cut between his second and third fingers.

"You're clumsy."

He looked up and for a moment only saw red eyes, and her black mane bellowing in the wind. The rest of her, her clothes and white face, blended into the snow seamlessly.

"I'm not clumsy," he retorted weakly.

"Of course you are." She was in front of him in a second. He started to step back, but she grabbed his wounded hand roughly. "Look at this. This is what happens when you treat a weapon like a weapon. It turns on you."

Walter gritted his teeth and looked at the ground. He hated it when she talked down to him like that. It made him feel small, even though, at ten years old, he was almost as tall as she was. She grabbed his other hand, pulling so hard he nearly fell forward.

"Where are your gloves?"

He scoffed stubbornly. "I don't need them."

"So you can slice yourself up quicker?" She furrowed her brow. "You're a stupid boy, Walter."

He tried to pull his hands away, but she held tight. She had always been stronger than he was, and he hoped that when he grew up, he would be stronger than she was. Then she wouldn't treat him like a little kid anymore.

"Why won't you wear your gloves?"

"Because they feel weird. They'll slow me down."

She glared at him with burning eyes. "Every weapon is double-edged," she said. "Remember that. You must treat it like it's a part of you, so it will slay your enemies, but you should also protect yourself from it, so it doesn't turn around and do the same to you. An arrogant man is more likely to be slain by his own sword. Do you understand that?"

He pursed his lips tightly. She squeezed his hands.

"Ow!"

"_Do_ you?"

"Fine!" he exclaimed. "I'll go put them on later."

She seemed pleased. "Good," she said. "Now come inside. You'll get sick out here."

She dragged him into the mansion by his hand through the flurries of snow. She dragged him around like this a lot. Every time she wanted something, she pulled him after her, sometimes all over the house. He remembered being a small child and thinking she was so strong and smart and confident.

Recently, he found himself thinking how soft her hand was, even through her glove.

She took him to the drawing room, where the maids had made a fire. She examined his hand in the light, and sighed. "At this rate, you're going to lose half your fingers before you see your first real battle."

She held his hand in both of hers and spread his bleeding fingers. Her pink tongue snaked out of her lips as she licked his wounds. It tingled pleasantly. It always did. A shiver ran down his spine, through his legs, all the way down to his toes. He wished he could always feel like that.

"When we grow up," he had once asked her, "will you marry me?"

"Kid," she had replied without missing a beat, "you've got a lot of growing up to do before you catch up to me."

oOo

The moment he opened his book, she appeared. It never failed. Sitting on his bed, he sensed her slender arms emerging from the wall even before they wrapped around his neck from behind. She peeked over his shoulder, her cold cheek pressed against his ear.

"What are you reading?" she asked.

"Vampire stories," he replied as she scratched his head as though he were a puppy.

"How dull."

"I think it's interesting."

She laughed crisply. "What a good boy you are, studying so hard. But it's past your bed time. If you're going to stay up, we might as well do something fun."

He sat up, pulling the rest of her out of the wall in the process. Once out, she pulled him back, grabbing him roughly the way she always did - like a careless child with a doll. "Sir Hellsing said I have to study," he argued unconvincingly as she nuzzled his ear.

"Don't listen to Arthur. If I had a penny for every time he skipped out on one obligation or another I'd be able to buy my freedom." She squeezed him, so hard he nearly gagged. "Come on, Walter. You're not mad at me for yelling at you before, are you?"

The image of her tongue between his bloody fingers came to mind. He tried to hide his blush and shook his head quickly.

"Good." A strand of her hair fell over his shoulder. "I have to be strict with you, you know. I have to make sure that you don't make a mistake when the time comes."

His eyes dipped. He didn't like this topic. It always made him nervous. "Do you really think I can kill vampires?"

"It's very easy. You've killed a human before. Killing vampires is even easier."

"Why? I thought they were dangerous."

She giggled. "Are you scared?"

He hesitated to tell her he was, but there was no point in hiding it. She always seemed to know what he was thinking, even when he tried his best to conceal it. So he nodded, avoiding her gaze in embarrassment. Releasing him, she laid down on the bed on her side in front of him.

"Are you scared of _me_?" He shook his head. She seemed amused. "Interesting. And yet, you are afraid of them."

"Yes, but you're…"

"I'm what? Small? Young? Nice?" Reaching out, she caressed his face, then abruptly clutched his chin forcefully, holding his head in place so that their eyes met. "Let me tell you something, Walter. I am none of those things. I only look like it."

"You're pretty," he stammered. Her grip was hurting his face.

Surprise lit her eyes momentarily. She let go, and smiled thinly. "Well," she said, "I suppose I shouldn't argue with that. But let that be a lesson to you - beauty is only skin deep, and so is ugliness for that matter. Just because I look less fearsome than those we hunt, doesn't mean I am weaker than they are. Just because they skulk in the moonlight with their fangs bared, doesn't mean they won't fall to me, or you for that matter."

Sitting up, she leaned close to him, as if imparting a schoolyard secret. "Remember," she cooed endearingly, "I'm the strongest. If you're going to be afraid of a vampire, it should always be me, understand?"

At the time, he thought she was bluffing, but nodded anyway. Chuckling, she flicked his nose lightly and hopped off the bed.

"Where are you going?"

"There's something I have to do," she said at the door.

"Are you coming back?"

"Not tonight." She gave him a quick wave. "Sleep well."

Then she was gone. Walter waited a moment, then hurried off the bed to the hall. But she had disappeared. She always came and went in the shadows. He could never follow her. Every night was the same. She came to bid him goodnight, then disappeared elsewhere. And every night, he wished she would stay longer.

A soft shuffling came overhead. He looked up and thought he saw something move, but it quickly disappeared. Quickening his footstep, he went to the stairs and climbed to the second floor. For nearly a month now he'd examined a different part of the house every night after she left. All he knew so far was that she went upstairs instead of down, and he was determined to find out where.

It was on this particular night that Lady Luck finally smiled on him. Upon reaching the top floor, he stepped out of the stairwell just in time to see Alucard emerge from the far wall. He stepped behind a corner before she could see him and peeked out carefully.

Once fully formed, Alucard straightened her hat, smoothed her hair, and headed for the nearest door. It opened without her knocking, and he immediately recognized the room as Arthur's bedroom. She entered, leaving the door slightly ajar. Walter waited half a minute before tiptoeing over to peek in through the crack.

He saw her take off her hat and remove her jacket in the darkness. Then, her clothing disappeared, fading into the shadows. Further inside the room he could see no more, save for her dim silhouette as she climbed into Arthur's bed.

Maybe, he thought, it was a game. A game they played after dark. And maybe, someday, when he's bigger and stronger, she'd teach him to play, too.  



	4. Chapter 4

CH 4

_1942_

He was having a nightmare.

It had to be a nightmare, because the sight before him couldn't be real. His entire body froze as his brain rebelled against reality. The man lumbering toward him, gray skin hanging loosely from his face and dried blood caked on his torn limbs, reached out, moaning and grasping for a handful of his clothes.

The thunder of bursting bullets. The ghoul's head exploded with a sound reminiscent of a ripe melon being smashed. Its blood and innards struck Walter's chest and legs. He let out a surprised cry and stumbled backward.

"Fight, you moron!"

She had told him they were going on a little trip, running a little errand. The next thing he knew they were in the heart of the city, prowling an entire block that had being blocked off by Hellsing and police personnel. Then she had taken his hand and led him into the empty alleys, where everything happened much too fast.

"Move!"

He dove to the left, trying hard to remember his training. She took out the ghoul coming up behind him with a shot right between the eyes. She was amazing. Even in his frantic state he noticed how amazing she was. She didn't panic, didn't fret, and never missed. She wielded the Tommy gun the way she always taught him to wield weapons - like an extension of her own body.

Three more came skulking out of the shadows. He felt Alucard's hand on his arm, pulling him into the nearest building. She pushed him against a corner. Her eyes glowed eerily in the dark.

"I'm going after the host," she whispered. "You have your weapon, do you not?"

He did, and nodded hastily.

"Good. Search the block, take out any stragglers. Do _not_ let them wander outside the blockade."

He nodded again, his heart threatening to beat a hole in his chest. She took a step back and melted into the shadows just as a sickly green hand appeared over the doorframe. Walter swallowed hard and readied himself.

The first one lunged. He stepped aside and let his wires fly high. It took off an arm and a leg instantly. The thing teetered almost comically for a second, then fell forward, still trying to pull itself toward him with its remaining arm. Its companions stepped over him and fought their way inside.

Dropping the first one gave him confidence. Walter dropped himself to the floor, bent his legs, and leapt. He sailed over the two ghouls, flexed his fingers, and pulled. Heads and limbs flew in all directions. Taking the chance, he ran into the streets, panting in a mixture of fear and ecstasy.

Another group appeared down the street, at least five this time. The vampire had being busy. He struck a practiced posture. A net. He needed a net.

The group lumbered toward him. He waited for the perfect moment to make his move. His wires fell perfectly over the ghouls, ensnaring each one in its grasp. They stopped in confusing, then tried to move forward again, only to lose their arms and legs in the process. He felt a grin creep to his face and sweat fall from his brow. He hoped Alucard was watching. A few were still standing. He gripped the wires and pulled.

Something snagged.

There was a ghastly cry of pain. It took him a moment to realize it had come out of his own mouth. Dropping the wires, he fell to his knees and looked at his hands.

There was blood everywhere, sliding along his wrists in thin rivers, soaking into his sleeves. Deep gashes lined his palms. Two of his fingers had being cut to the bone. A layer of skin had been peeled clean off the knuckles on his left hand.

The pain was maddening, stinging so much his eyes began to water. The sound of dry moans filled his ears and he looked up to see the ghouls moving closer. Frantically, he reached for his wires again, but his fingers refused to cooperate. He fumbled with them, dropped them twice, and finally gave up. Getting to his feet, he started to run just as a hand wrapped around his ankle. Startled, he looked down to see that the ghoul with two missing limbs had crept up on him. He had failed to take out its head or heart.

"No!" He stomped on its arm, but it held right. "Let go!"

The others bore down on him, forcing him to the ground. He raised his arms in a feeble defense as they opened their black mouths.

A flash of white. The ghoul right above his face, a lanky man with one eye dangling out of its socket, was lifted off and flung across the street. He took the chance and kicked the one gripping his ankle in the face. Its grip loosened momentarily and he rolled away from the leaning forms.

Alucard grabbed one of the ghouls by the scalp and drove it into the ground, smearing its brains all over the concrete. Another came at her and was torn to pieces before Walter could blink. The broken one on the ground made a weak snap at her foot. She stepped on its neck and pushed down until it stopped moving. The world became of a cyclone of blood as she moved. In less than a minute, the street was covered in red stains and scattered limbs and organs.

When she turned to him, he realized his mouth was hanging open and quickly closed it. Her eyes weren't just red anymore. They burned like hot coals right through his body. Every piece of clothing on her body was almost entirely crimson.

As Walter stood there, cradling his crippled hands, she bared her fangs and hissed at him like an angry cat. He shuddered. The waves of rage and darkness pouring forth from her chilled him to the bone. It seemed to absorb all light and life as far as the eye could see. Though he didn't know it then, it was the first time he saw her in berserk mode.

His legs trembling, he walked toward her one step at a time. She waited for him patiently, her foot still over the neck of the ghoul. Finally, he was in front of her. Her gaze made him feel very, very small.

"I…"

She slapped him hard enough to knock him to the ground. His hands left bloody fingerprints on the street.

"You stupid boy," she snarled. He had never heard her address him in such a dark tone. "Do you even know what you did?"

He bit his lip. His face was beginning to swell from her strike. "I-I didn't wear my…"

"You let the host get away!" she snapped, cutting him off. "We've been tracking this one for the last three months and I had to let him go because _you_ couldn't even suit up properly!"

"But, I didn't know we were going to…"

"_Always_ wear your armor." She stepped off the ghoul and stood before him, moonlight glistening in her eyes. "How many times do I have to tell you that? When you have your weapon, you should have your armor. When you bring one without the other, you are not suited for the battlefield."

With that, she turned away from him. Walter climbed to his feet. "Maybe this is for the best," he heard her say, "Maybe now Arthur will send you back to the orphanage while you're still cute enough to be adopted by someone else. That way you won't have to live this life of bloodshed that you obviously can't handle, and I can go back to working alone."

He chased after her. "Wait! I won't mess up again, I promise! I'm sorry!"

She jerked a thumb at the broken bodies on the ground. "Don't apologize to me. Apologize to them. For every day that runt runs free, we have to put another innocent human out of their misery."

oOo

He didn't see her again that night. She didn't drop by to say goodnight to him. Nor did she appear the next day, or the day after that. After the third day, he finally worked up the nerve to venture into the dungeons and face her.

He feared very much that she had told Arthur to send him back to the orphanage. It was the last thing he wanted. He wasn't afraid of the orphanage; He didn't dread the cold rooms and soggy food, or even Madam Madeline, but if he had to leave, he didn't want to go with her angry at him.

At the very least, he wanted to wave a happy "good-bye" to her, maybe even have her hold him one last time like she used to.

Her room was dark, unlit as usual. He set the candle he had brought on the only table and walked over to her coffin. It was closed tight. He knocked gently on the lid. There was a pause, then the heavy lid moved to the side. Alucard pushed it onto the floor and sat up.

"Oh," she said nonchalantly, and yawned widely. "It's you. What do you want?"

He twiddled his thumbs nervously and couldn't look her in the eyes. "Are you still angry with me?"

She stared at him for a long moment as if she didn't know what he was talking about, then shrugged. "No," she answered. "I don't suppose so."

"Then how come you're avoiding me?"

Chuckling, she laid back down, pillowing her head on her arms. Walter leaned over the side of the coffin. It was enormous, lined with red silk, and actually looked pretty comfortable. "Is that what this is about?" she asked. "I'm not avoiding you. I'm being punished."

"For what?"

"For letting the target escape. And for hitting you."

His eyes widened. "But, _I_ let the…"

She waved his words away. "You're just a kid. You haven't learned anything else. It was my fault for dragging you into battle too soon. I thought you were ready, but you obviously weren't."

"I am!" Walter blurted out before he could stop himself. She regarded him curiously.

"You think you are?"

"I am," he said again firmly. "Take me next time. I won't let you down. You'll see."

She turned back to the ceiling. He couldn't tell if she believed him or not. "Alright," she said. "I'll take you next time. But if you screw up again, I really will tell Arthur to send you back to that uptight old witch."

He hesitated. "So you didn't ask Arthur to send me away?"

"Why would I do that? There's never anything to do around here. I'm not going to give back the only toy Arthur ever got me that easily."

He hid his grin shyly and sat on the floor by the coffin. For a while they were silent. Every now and then he snuck a gaze into the coffin, half hoping she would reach out and hold his hand.

"Alucard?"

"Yes?"

"Do you remember telling me that you're the scariest vampire of all?"

"That sounds like me."

"Well, I saw you fight this time. You were right, you are the strongest."

"Good to know you agree."

"But you were wrong about something."

She sat up again. It was rare that he got to surprise her. "And what's that?"

"You weren't scary," he said, looking her honestly in the eyes. "When you were covered in blood, you never looked more beautiful."  



	5. Chapter 5

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I may have to update this bi-weekly, since I'm working on some re-writes. Also, there is a pic on my DeviantArt for this chapter.

Enjoy & Review!

CH 5

_1944_

"That's quite enough, Captain."

Walter wiped the sweat from his brow and turned to the door of the destroyed dining room. The fat Major was back, but this time unaccompanied by that funny-looking doctor. The wolf man looked at its master, then back at Walter, as if trying to make a decision. The Major smiled thinly and gestured to his pet.

"Come now. We don't need to hang around here anymore. We have bigger fish to fry."

Walter sneered through his bloodied lips. "Always thinking about food, aren't you, fatty?"

The Major arched a brow at him. Walter suddenly regretted letting his tongue wag. If the Major was offended, he might sic his pet on him again, and Walter really wasn't sure he could last another round against the wolf. Though he didn't think their power was enormously different, the wolf's endurance was inhuman. But, to his surprise, the Major raise his hands and clapped.

"That was a marvelous performance," he said. "Wonderful, little butler, simply wonderful." He raised a finger to Walter, the way schoolteachers berated small children. "But you mustn't get cocky now. You are still young and have much to learn. And…" he paused to look around. "Say, where is the small fraulein?"

Walter rubbed his bloody nose with his sleeve. "I don't know. Probably kicking the shit out of the rest of you bastards."

"Tsk. Such a mouth." The Major took a step further into the room. The wolf man, fur receding into human skin, moved to join him. "But that's alright. For now, I am not interested in her. I would rather speak to you alone. Have you perhaps given another thought to that offer I've made to you?"

He couldn't believe this guy. "I think you're touched in the head, lard ball."

"I would appreciate it if you would stop calling me names." The Major's grin broadened. "After all, you were the one who so rudely interrupted my nice, quiet meal. You should be showing a little courtesy to your host."

Walter considered spitting on him, but they were too far apart.

"All I ask is you consider it. You can take a year, ten years, even fifty. We'll be waiting. The offer will never expire."

"You already have a loyal lapdog," Walter retorted, pointing to the Captain, who did not seem flattered nor insulted at the comment. "You don't need a second one. Besides, having one should teach you – the loyal lapdog would never stray from its master."

The Major seemed taken aback. "My," he said slowly. "So eager to label yourself a lapdog. How interesting. Such obedience and devotion. Did she teach you that?"

"What?"

"She did, didn't she?" The Major let out a small, grating laugh. "Oh this is certainly a fine development. It makes me wonder who your master really is."

Walter's brow furrowed. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"It means simply this." The Major spread his hands and strolled the edge of the room. "If your master is indeed that man named Arthur Hellsing, then very well. Though we have never met, I have respect for the Hellsings, and if you are loyal to him, I will not question it in the slightest bit. However, if it is another that you are loyal to, that is different."

With a swift move Walter's wires flew straight for the Major. The Captain stepped forward and caught them once more, but he did not pull, nor attack. The two stayed in position, the wires taunt between them as the Major went on.

"The one who looks sweet is actually poisonous. She is a siren, little butler. I have known of her and studied her longer than you have lived. You may think you are being loyal to her, but she is not fueled by loyalty." He sneered. "Such a young boy. You fell for her the moment you laid eyes on her, didn't you? Not that I blame you. She's very good at making herself beautiful, no?"

Walter's teeth ground against each other. He tried to pull the wires back but the Captain's grip was firm.

"Give it to her," the Major said to him. "Give it all to her. In the end you'll get nothing back, because she loves only herself. Don't you know her story? She is a selfish, deluded king and always will be."

"Shut up!"

"Alright then." Reaching into his pocket, the Major fished out a card and tossed it casually on the ground. It slid to Walter's feet and came to a stop. "For you. When that pretty little girl breaks your heart, it just might come in handy. Captain?"

The wolf man let go. Walter fell backwards into a pile of debris. By the time he steadied himself on the fallen dining table, they were gone. He looked at the card on the ground. It was perfectly ridiculous, but he couldn't stop staring at it. Hesitantly, he reached down and picked it up. It was blank save for a telephone number and two words.

"Walter."

He looked up just as Alucard pushed the double doors open with a loud "bang". There was blood all over her clothes, though he was sure none of it was her own. There was a grin on her face that usually came with the ecstasy of hunting. She was chewing on something, rolling it around from one side of her mouth to the other.

"Did you stomp the puppy flat?" she asked. After nearly seven years, she was still the same. He had gotten taller, grown stronger, and was well on his way to becoming a handsome young man, but she was still exactly the same down to the last hair.

And every time she was near, he still couldn't take his eyes off her, especially when she was covered in bloodstains.

"Um," he answered. "He ran off."

She scoffed. "Wimps. That's alright. There's still plenty of fun to be had around here. Now hurry up or I'm gonna take it all."

He chased after her, and grabbed her hand when they were neck-and-neck. She winked at him playfully.

"What are you sucking on?"

She stopped in her tracks and spat it out. It was a human thumb. Walter nearly gagged.

"Sorry, bad habit," she said with a grin, and moved on.

It wasn't until a day later, when Arthur gathered to Round Table members to toast their victory upon their return, that he realized he had tucked the card into his back pocket. He snuck back to his room before Arthur could force a third shot of vodka down his throat and stashed the card in a place easily forgotten.  



	6. Chapter 6

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Fifty fanfic cookie points to whoever can identify which of my stories this maid was first mentioned in.

Enjoy & Review!

CH 6

_1945_

She was brushing her hair in front of his mirror though she had no reflection. It made no sense that she would keep it so long, since it would only be a hassle in a battlefield. But then again, she's never needed any advantages to win. Winning was in her nature.

She wasn't really taking any great care in the task. Walter watched her with fascination. It wasn't about good grooming or appearances. Those things never really occurred to her. She brushed her hair because she didn't like to be idle. She always had to be doing something, be it simply fritting about or tearing apart a mongrel.

"It's getting late," she said, tossing his comb carelessly on the small dresser at the foot of his bed. She started to reach for her hat, which was sitting on top of his sheets. He got to it before she did.

"You don't need this. It'll mess up your hair again."

She looked him up and down, then at the hat in his hand. "Give it," she said. "I have to wear it."

"Why? It looks ridiculous."

"Because Arthur said so."

He threw the hat toward the ceiling, then caught it as it fell down, pulling it out of her reach as she made a grab for it. She scowled, making him laugh. "Arthur has awful taste."

She lunged for the hat. He jerked it backward and lost his balance. He fell back onto the bed, pulling her with him. She dropped heavily on top of him, her fingers finally reaching the brim of the hat.

"You're going to tear it."

"No, I won't."

She tugged it out of his hand. He relented, smiling as she did not get off him immediately. She propped her elbows on his chest. "What do you have against the hat?"

"Nothing." He took it out of her hands and set it on her head, taking extra care to make sure it's straight. She lifted herself off him and straightened her clothing.

"Like I said, it's late."

He sat up, leaning against the bed frame as she headed out of his room. "Why don't you spend the night with me instead?" he asked. "Just for a change. Arthur can have you tomorrow."

She turned, her red eyes filled with that teasing laughter that drove him a little madder each day. "You're cute, Walter," she said, and was gone, leaving him alone in the empty room that echoed with his loneliness.

oOo

He didn't have to follow her to know where she went. Arthur's bedroom. Nearly every night. He used to check up on her once or twice every few weeks, just to see if she went elsewhere, perhaps to someone else's room. Maybe she did this as a habit, he used to think. Maybe it was just another way to relieve boredom.

But it was always Arthur's room. Night after night she went to her master. At age fifteen he no longer had any delusions about what they did. In a way, it _was_ a game, a game for two with no room for him at the board.

He waited a few minutes before heading out. It was just long enough for her to reach her destination, and he didn't want to stay in his room when they… started. Maybe it was his imagination, but he thought he could hear them. His room, after all, was directly below Arthur's, albeit two floors below. Sometimes it was the bedsprings, sometimes her laughter.

Walter rubbed his temples and tried to stay calm. He was young and brash, and was well-aware of the fact that if he didn't keep himself in check, he might do something he regretted later. He wasn't even quite sure what was causing his surges of emotion. He just wanted peace and quiet. That had to be it. He just wanted to take a walk and come back when things quiet down so he could get some sleep.

That had to be it. Nothing more, nothing less.

He threw on a jacket and walked out into the garden. The moon was covered by a thick layer of rolling clouds tonight, and the courtyard was pitch dark. He lit a cigarette and smoked in the frosty air.

"You're too young to smoke."

The feminine voice nearly got his hopes up, but he immediately knew it wasn't the person he was hoping for. The maid standing a few feet away was slightly taller than he was. He searched his mind for her name. Marian? Harriet?

He held out the pack. "Do you want one?"

Marian-or-Harriet hesitated for a moment, then took his offering. He tossed her the lighter, too, and watched her light one and take a long drag.

"What are you doing out here?"

He shrugged. "What are _you_ doing out there?"

She was two years older than he was, a bit short at seventeen, with a plump, soft body and a kind face. She wasn't very pretty, but from Walter could tell, she had a nice enough personality and a sunny smile to make up for it.

Every now and then, when they worked, she would "accidentally" brush parts of her body against him, then turn away with a bright blush. Even now, she moved close to him and leaned against his arm, her spongy breasts conveniently close.

"It's kind of cold out here."

He scanned the silhouette of the mansion, searching for the window to Arthur's room. The lights were off, and he was glad. He didn't want to see anything.

"That girl you're always hanging out with…" he cringed inwardly. "she's kind of weird."

Walter chortled. "That's an understatement."

"Is she, you know, your…" her voice trailed off. She was afraid to ask, perhaps because she was afraid of Alucard. The household staff all knew of Alucard's existence and saw her often, but few were familiar with her true role in the house. Her presence unnerved them and, as far as Walter knew, only Arthur and himself dared to come within five feet of her. Due to the circumstances of their initial introduction, it had take Walter a year or two to figure that out.

Reaching out, he took the girl's arm. "You're right," he said. "It's cold out here. Let's go to my room."

She giggled airily as he took her inside. Once there, he locked his door, laid her down, and did whatever it took to shut out the images of what was taking place above them. She was eager and willing, and was so pleased to be in his bed that she didn't even notice he didn't say a word to her as they went about their deed.

She also didn't know that, as he laid above her, the face he saw in his mind was not hers.

oOo

At five a.m. the door opened with a thunderous crash. Walter jerked out of a fitful sleep and sat up groggily, dimly aware of Marian-or-Harriet pulling the sheets over her bare torso anxiously as Alucard strolled inside. She always had to make an entrance.

"Morning," she said to him.

The maid's breath caught in her throat. Walter could tell by the way she was breathing. She was nervous in front of Alucard. More than nervous, absolutely terrified. Perhaps she thought the scary girl was going to tear her apart for bedding her boyfriend.

For a very long time, or perhaps just a second that felt like eternity, no one spoke. Walter felt his own chest tighten as Alucard's gaze landed on him.

"Arthur's having an early meeting. You have to go set up some breakfast for them," she said casually. "English muffins, coffee, and tea. Be sure to Irish up Islands's cup."

_Was she joking?_

Marian-or-Harriet looked like she was on the verge of a breakdown, trembling so hard the bed had begun to shake.

"And wash this, too." She took a white scarf from her neck and tossed it on the bed. It was stained with dark red spots. "I got a little carried away on the last patrol. When you're finished, Arthur said you have to catch up on your German lessons."

She couldn't be completely blind to the fact that he was laying nude in bed with another girl. Marian-or-Harriet seemed equally confused. They exchanged a glance as Alucard stretched and yawned.

"I'm going to bed," she muttered sleepily. "We can spar in the afternoon."

And with that, she was gone. Walter sat stunned as the girl let out a sigh of relief.

"I guess she wasn't mad."

His fists were gripping the sheets, so hard his knuckles were turning white.

Of course she wasn't mad. She didn't care. She noticed and didn't even care enough to comment on it. Why should she? She just spent a night in the bed of the master. She had no attention to spare the boy butler.

Marian-or-Harriet leaned over and stroke his chest lovingly. "So, what do you say we…"

"Get out."

She started in surprise. "What?"

Reaching to the floor, he grabbed her uniform and flung it at her. She let out a small shriek as the fabric whipped her face. "Are you deaf?!" he shouted at her. "Get out!"

Looking angry and humiliated, she gathered her things, dressed herself quickly, and ran out of his room on the verge of tears. Walter sat alone for many minutes before rising, dressing himself, and going about another day.


	7. Chapter 7

CH 7 

_1946_

Arthur raised his glass high. The other Round Table members did the same. Walter didn't particularly like champagne, and the tailored suit was making his neck itch, but he raised his glass anyway.

"To the passing of 1945," boomed Arthur, "the year that ended the war."

The cheer was echoed all around. It was true. Peace was coming, at least for the time being. After living nearly half his life hearing about the war, fighting in countless battles, it seemed unreal that it was ending. Life was about to change.

"To the Angel of Death!"

This time the cheer was quieter. The men were a bit uncomfortable around him, so young and so skilled in the ways of death already. Arthur, already a bit unsteady in his step from the alcohol, strolled over and slapped him on the back.

"You did well, my boy," he slurred. "If all goes well, you can retire from the field now. Good thing you're still young enough to live life, am I right?"

"Um," he said, "yeah."

The party went on raucously. Arthur's parties were always noisy, even if he was the only one making noise. But this time everyone was in good spirits and bottle after bottle of champagne were downed. When most of the guests were too drunk to take notice, Walter snuck a half-empty bottle under his jacket and tiptoed out of the parlor.

Alucard was sitting cross-legged on top of her coffin, reading a book in the dark. Her eyes glowed like spots of fire when he entered her room.

"Why didn't you come to the party? It's your victory, too."

She let out a dry laugh. "Victories of war are fleeting. It's hardly worth celebrating peace if it's going to be lost tomorrow. Besides," she set the book aside, "my presence makes them nervous."

He handed her the bottle. She took a swig before he could find her a glass.

"This tastes awful."

"I know, doesn't it?"

He sat down next to her. She eyed him suspiciously. "It's almost midnight. Shouldn't you run and go find that girl?"

"What girl?"

"That maid you had in your room."

He had forgotten all about her. It had been four months and they haven't spoken a word to each other. He wasn't sure he could pick out her face from the rest of the household staff.

"I rather be here."

"How kind of you." She took another drink and grimaced. "I thought humans were supposed to spend the eve of the New Year with their love, some obscure tradition."

He turned to her. "What if I told you I was?"

There was a pause. He could see her silhouetted in the darkness, the bottle of champagne gripped in her hand. She wringed the bottleneck with her hand.

"No."

"What do you mean 'no'?"

She set the bottle between them like a barrier. "No means you need to sober up. I think all the alcohol Arthur fed you is getting to your head."

He reached for her hand. She yanked it away like his skin was full of poisonous spikes. "Don't do this, Walter. I don't like it when you act like this." She hopped off the coffin and took a few steps away from him. "You've been drinking. Go sleep it off. Don't sit here and delude yourself."

He stood, too. "I'm not deluding myself. Why are you…"

"Don't delude yourself into thinking you like me."

Her words cut through him like a knife. He felt weak. "But I do like you!" he exclaimed. "I don't like that maid. Hell, I don't even remember her name. I like _you_."

"No," she said again. "Never."

"Never?"

"I can be anything else for you," she told him from the shadows. "I can be your friend, your comrade, your teacher, your protector, but I cannot be _that_ for you. You're young and you think with your foolish heart. Be careful of it leading you astray. Right now, you should go back to your room, go to sleep, and forget about this conversation."

An enormous weight fell upon his shoulders. He felt like he might collapse. "Why?"

"Because," she replied, "you're just a kid."

After that he went to his room, where he closed the door, reached for the nearest breakable thing, and smashed it against the far wall. Lamps, books, cups, anything he could get his hands on. He was sure she heard it. She had to. But this time, she didn't appear to stop him.

A white card fell out of a book. It didn't catch his eye until he sat down on the trashed bed to rest. He eyed the telephone number and two-word phrase for a very long time.

_No_.

He picked it up and threw it into the back of the bottom desk drawer.

oOo

_1948_

"Peace is dull."

Walter put the stack of books in his arms onto the shelf. They were going to be pulled out and tossed about the room later, but he liked to keep the library neat as long as possible. "Not all humans are warmongers," he told Alucard.

At eighteen, he was had reached six feet in height, his features had begun to grow out of boyhood and settle into that of a man. His nose was sharper, his face thinner, and his eyes often caused the female maids to coo and fan themselves as he passed. Visitors dipped their heads and whispered in admiration of Hellsing's handsome butler. His raven-black hair had grown long, and he had begun to wear it in a short ponytail.

"Do you desire another war?"

Alucard shook her head, her legs dangling off the edge of the writing desk. As usual, time seemed to walk a circle around her like she was an obstacle in the road. Her bright eyes, smooth skin, dark hair, and small stature were exactly the same after a decade. "Peace has its advantages. However, it's in times like this that make me question whether I have any other purpose to serve."

"You're very cynical."

"Blame it on age."

It was true. She had become more and more cynical as peace times drew on. Walter wasn't sure whether it was because she truly craved chaos or because, deep down, she didn't expect peace to last.

"Do you prefer the life of a butler to that of the Angel of Death?"

"I really don't know."

They no longer held hands like they used to, nor did she drop by to see him to bed every night. Not anymore. As he grew older, she grew distant. Though she was still the closest thing he had to a best friend in the house, things have changed. He wanted to say it was a result of that night two years ago, but he knew it wasn't true.

They had grown apart. She no seemed less aware of his presence. It was as if she had grown bored with him, along with everything else. She teased him less and her laughter had been replaced by the occasional sneer. She had had enough fun at his side, and was withdrawing into herself.

He was just an old toy. That's what she always called him – her toy.

A soft crackle. The crystal goblet he had picked up off the end table had cracked. He stared at it and quick loosened his grip. She saw. She had to have. But she said nothing. She must know how frustrated and wounded he was, and yet she never said anything.

"I have to go."

"O.K."

He didn't turn to watch her walked out of the library. He knew where she was going. There was no point in rehashing the same conversation over and over again. He had learned to keep his words and emotions bottled up.


	8. Chapter 8

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Walter's moment of betrayal, but rest assured it won't be a smooth road.

Enjoy & Review!

CH 8

He saw her every day. No, he watched her every day. Her red eyes, her dark hair, her fanged smile, the way she wrinkled her nose at the smell of silver or holy water, the way she scratched her ear when she was annoyed, and the way she yawned when the sun came up. He couldn't stop looking at her, and he couldn't stop replaying every bit of it when she wasn't around. 

Her scent was everywhere. She smelled like dead roses and gunpowder. When she came back from the battlefield, she smelled like blood. When she just woke up from a long sleep, she smelled like fresh earth. When she sat next to him, she smelled the best, an indescribable warm scent that made his body weak and his joints ache.

He was still so young. His passion burned like a wildfire, sprawling over his thoughts and seeping into every aspect of his life. She had said he was deluding himself into thinking he liked her, but it wasn't true. Day after day, month after month, year after year, he still thought about her.

She was laughing again. He hated hearing her laughter above him instead of next to him. He hated that he was not the one who ravaged her body, shared in her ecstasy, and held her in his arms when it was over.

He sat in his room with the door closed, his left sleeve rolled up. He had taken the blade out of the razor Arthur had given him for Christmas last year.

He pulled it across the skin on his bare arm. He wasn't afraid of blood or pain, and it didn't really bring him any sort of satisfaction. It was merely something else to concentrate on, and it hurt less than the sound of her laughter.

oOo

When she slipped out of Arthur's room, looking prim and proper as if she had done nothing more than sip a carefully prepared glass of tea, he was waiting. She regarded him with only mild surprise. She knew he was outside, but thought that he would've given up an hour ago. Acknowledging him with a nod, she began to head down the hall, but he stepped into her path.

"Did you want something?" she asked, giving her usual teasing smirk.

He shrugged. "I'm not sure."

"It's past your bedtime."

"I know."

They looked at each other for a very long time. She tried to slip past him again, but he moved into her way once more. "If you want something, just speak up. Otherwise you're wasting both of our time."

He took a step toward her. He was much taller than her now, and the shadow he cast had a menacing feel. She took a step back, not because she was intimidated by him, but simply because she liked her personal space. "I want you," he said.

She tilted her head. "I'm right here."

"I want you the way Arthur wants you."

She giggled, but stopped abruptly when his fist struck the wall behind her, missing her ear by less than an inch. It was hard for anyone to catch her off guard, but he had managed it. Messy locks fell over his eyes, hiding his eyes in shadows as he leaned over her.

"Why is that funny?"

He was much too close. Normally she didn't mind it, but right now, something about him was bothering her. She twisted her body uncomfortably as he laid his other hand against the wall, trapping her between his arms.

"Why is it funny?" he asked again.

"You're going to wake the master."

He let out a bitter laugh. "I don't give a fuck."

"Have you been drinking?"

"No." He was lying. She could smell it on his breath. He stank like a whorehouse.

She pushed him away gently. "You're drunk, Walter. Go sleep it off."

He didn't obey her order. She wasn't even sure he would've obeyed Arthur's orders at that moment. The next thing she knew, he had grabbed her by the shoulders, squeezed them so hard she thought he was going to break his fingers. Then he kissed her, a forceful, sloppy, desperate kiss.

She struggled. He held tight, pressing her against the wall. The desperation in his kiss was sad, so very sad. The boy was weak and beside himself.

She started to work his fingers loose gently, taking care not to hurt him. He released her shoulders and went for the buttons on her jacket instead, reaching under the lined layer clumsily and unbuttoning her undershirt.

She pushed him. He flew across the hall and struck the far wall hard with his back, knocking a raspy breath out of his lung. As he lifted his hazy eyes to her, she glared at him. Her eyes glowed in the dark hall.

"Did you just do what I think you did?" she asked darkly. The boy was barely awake. She wasn't sure he understood the question.

"Why Arthur?" he asked with slurred words.

She shook her head. "That's not the question, is it? What you want to ask is, why not you?" He nodded sloppily. "Then let me tell you, Walter. Arthur is a dog. When it comes to the bedroom, he acts like a dog, thinks like a dog, and fucks like a dog. He's a dirty man with a dirty mind and it's merely my job to satisfy him. I don't think that's what you want, is it?"

Before he could answer, she went on, "just know that the answer is 'no'. Be a good boy and don't fall into this kind of corruption."

She turned away from him. "Cool off. Go dunk your head in cold water and get those thoughts out of your head," she told him over her shoulder. "And one more thing – if you ever try to force yourself on me again, I won't hesitate to beat you black and blue."

oOo

When dawn rolled around he found himself standing inside a phone booth on a deserted street corner, staring alternately at the phone and the small white card in his hand. The card was half-faded now, but just readable enough.

Was he really about to do this?

Her face floated into his mind again and he fought the urge to bang his head against the booth's glass wall. The way she talked down to him, rejected him, and humiliated him. His skull felt like it was about to split from desire and desperation every time he thought of her.

He loved her.

And he hated her.

And Arthur. Arthur, who treated her like a toy, and she in turn did the same to him.

He laid his hand on the receiver, took it off, then put it on again. Finally, before he could change his mind again, he dialed the number rapidly, his heart pounding like a hammer against his chest.

The phone rang five times. Just as he began to think maybe the number had expired or that the whole card incident had been a joke, someone picked up. To his surprise, it was a child's voice that answered.

"Milly's Funeral Home." There was a short chortle. "Nah, I'm kidding. Hi!"

He wasn't sure how to answer. Was it a wrong number? Raising the card to his eye level, he figured it was now or never. He read the two words written below the number.

"_Cheshire Cat_."

The line went dead. Walter took the receiver from his ear, looked at it, and set it back into its cradle. It was a joke. It had to be. He had just prank-called someone's house at five a.m. That was just great. He felt like a fool.

Something heavy slammed against the side of the phone booth. He jumped in surprise, his fingers instinctively going for the concealed wires in his sleeve.

A boy was standing outside, his face pressed against the glass, waving ecstatically at him. Judging by his appearance, he was no more than thirteen, with light blond hair and sneaky large eyes. Walter would have assumed he was just a passing child playing pranks if not for two things.

From underneath the boy's blond bob, two shapes that looked suspiciously like cat ears stuck out. They twitched in Walter's direction, as if sensing his presence.

"Hey!" the boy said, and gestured for him to come out. Once he did, the boy looked up at him and whistled. "Wow, you grew."

He looked left, then right. They were alone on the street. "Have we met?"

"Met? No." The kid shook his head hard. "But I saw you throw down with the Captain back then. You didn't see me, but I was there. Yep." Now he was nodding. "I'm everywhere and nowhere."

His accent was unmistakably German. On his body, Walter noticed, he was wearing the uniform of a Hitler youth, complete with a red armband bearing a swastika. Seeing his confusion, the boy stood at attention and saluted.

"Warrant officer Schrodinger," he said. "At your service."

"Um," Walter said, "all right."

Schrodinger grinned. "Your call couldn't have come at a better time. We have big plans underway, you know. But this isn't the time to talk about them. You will receive further instructions later."

"How?"

"You will receive a different phone number every week. Call from a secure line. For now, your job is to report to us anything noteworthy within the circles of England's elites. This includes, of course, your master Arthur Hellsing and that pretty little vampire he keeps around." 

A weight fell in his stomach. Betrayal. It was such a heavy word.

The boy's eyes grew darker. At that moment, Walter realized he was no boy. Like Alucard, The cat boy Schrodinger was much more than what met the eye.

"I know why you decided on this."

Walter tried not to let Schrodinger's prying gaze get to him. "Do you?"

"She's hurt you, hasn't she?" The boy smirked. "And now you wish more than anything to pay her back for it, maker her feel the same pain you did. A personal motive, but hey, that makes no difference to us. And you're in luck. Trust me when I tell you that, in the end, she _will_ be the one who suffers."

Walter pursed his lips and said nothing.

"You're hesitating." Schrodinger tilted his head slightly. "It's not too late to back out. The choice is still yours. You can join us, seek revenge on the one who hurt you, or," he glanced at Walter's forearm, "you can go back and spend the rest of your life sitting in your room slicing up your arm while she goes on laughing."

"No," he heard himself say. It was like listening to someone else's voice from far away. "I'm in."

"You will need to prove your loyalty to us, of course. No one trusts a defected lapdog right off. We will determine over time if you are trustworthy, but I would say you have made a big step just by contacting me. I will check up on you once in a while. Don't let us down. Oh, and one other thing." Schrodinger winked in a manner much too similar to Alucard. "Welcome to Millennium."


	9. Chapter 9

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know this took a LONG time. I'm SO SO sorry. I've been traveling for 3 weeks straight for work and had limited access to the internet. But yes, this story is still going.

Oh, and I realize that, if you do the math, Alucard was sealed when Walter was in his thirties. But for the sake of this story, let's pretend he's in his late twenties.

Enjoy & Review!

CH 9

1951

"Making an exception tonight?"

Alucard blew a smoke ring and handed the cigarette back to Walter. They were sitting arm's length apart in the garden, as was the usual nowadays. "Arthur has some call girls over."

In the past, Arthur only entertained other ladies – a word used loosely – when Alucard was absent. Though lately the vampire seemed to frequent her master's bed less and less. Walter initially assumed it was because Arthur had grown bored of her, but later decided it was likely the other way around. Alucard had grown increasingly frigid as of late, a state she probably carried into the bedroom with her.

It had being a few years since he last rode to the battlefield as the Angel of Death. With peace came a drop in vampire activity, and he had assumed his role as the butler of the house full time while Arthur occupied his time with more political activities and less vampire-hunting.

"Have I ever told you I envy humans?"

Walter put the cigarette between his lips. "Why?"

"I used to pity them, thinking they had to face death eventually and that their life is meaningless because of their inevitable end. But now I envy them, because eternity…" she sighed, "it's so very long."

"Then why not seek death?"

"I wish it was that simple."

"I think there's something to be said for immortality. Think of all the things you learn and see."

"And have none to share it with, because all that you love dies eventually." She turned to him. "I suppose humans crave immortality constantly. Do you?"

He nodded. "Occasionally."

She chuckled sadly. "Then you have my sympathy, because it is a sad, empty dream to have. Once you fall into that dream, you never wake up."

"What if," he said, gazing at the full moon, "I said I only wanted sympathy in the form of you crawling into bed with me?"

"I'd said you are still the same foolish boy you were five years ago."

oOo

1958

"I want you to stay away from her." Walter looked up at his master in surprise, nearly dropping the tray of teacups in his hand.

Arthur had grown older. His hair had lost some of its luster, and lines had appeared here and there on his once-smooth face. But for the most part, he remained unchanged. His demeanor was still mischievous and his eyes still shone like old times. Hellsing ran like a well-oiled machine, and the slew of call girls to his room never stopped.

"Why, sir?"

Arthur folded his hands thoughtfully as Walter added sugar to his tea. It was rare that he saw his master in such a serious state. Even when the world teetered on the verge of collapse, Arthur never wiped that smug smirk off his face.

"Alucard is becoming unstable." Arthur stirred his tea and gestured to the chair opposite his desk. Walter sat down in it. "I had hoped it wouldn't happen, but she has always being unstable. When left unchecked, her temperament becomes increasingly erratic and unpredictable. I assume you've noticed the signs."

That was an understatement.

A few years ago, Alucard's nightly visit to Arthur had stopped altogether. She began to keep to herself more and more often, rarely saying a word to anyone. For days at a time she stayed in the dungeons without a sound. When she did emerge, she wandered about listlessly, silent as a ghost.

"Perhaps there is a way to 'check' her, sir, as you say."

"It isn't that easy. Tell me, Walter, do you know how long Alucard has lived?"

He quickly recalled the numbers in his head. "Over five centuries."

"Yes. And in those five centuries, she has being through everything. Love, hate, war, peace, revolutions, upheavals, you name it. These things weigh on her. When she is kept occupied, she is able to let them slide off, but if she cannot find an outlet for an extended amount of time, they begin to pile in her mind, and she becomes depressed, temperamental, unable to keep herself from the ghosts of the past."

"Can anything be done to help her?"

Arthur sighed and looked away. "I'm considering having her sealed."

"Sealed?"

"It's a process developed by our ancestors, perfected by Abraham Van Helsing. She will be kept in a room, secured and without nourishment. Her body will become incapacitated and her mind will fall into a coma-like state. It will allow her a period of peace until there is a purpose for her to fulfill once more."

"Sir!" Arthur arched a brow. Walter was a bit surprised at his own tone, but he went on. "You can't do that. She's not just a tool to be put away when she's no longer useful."

Arthur looked at him with an unreadable expression. "Alright," he said after a moment, "I'll let you have a shot, since you seem to have more confidence in this matter. If you can bring her around and convince me that she won't be a danger to herself and others, then I'll continue to let her roam free. But be careful. I know you have being in her company since your childhood, but she is dangerous, and very violent when provoked. Do not let yourself forget that."

oOo

When he entered, she was sleeping, something she did a lot of these days. He sat on the floor next to the coffin like he used to, and knocked. It took nearly a minute before she pushed the lid away and sat up, gazing at him with complete and utter disinterest.

"Did you want something?"

"Just to talk," he said. "Seems we haven't done much of that lately."

"There's nothing to talk about." Her hair was a tangled jumble and her clothes were hanging off her body in a crumpled mess. Her red eyes were dull and unfocused. "Are you going to get to the point or should I go back to sleep?"

He looked around. There was dust everywhere. She hasn't cleaned up or touched her books and records in a very long time. "Do you plan to keep killing time by sleeping?"

"Why not? I have all the time in the world."

"Arthur's worried."

She chortled. "Did he send you down here? Is that what this is? He sent you down here to see if I'm still alive and kicking?"

He put a hand on her shoulder, and was surprised when she didn't flinch away. "Come upstairs," he said. "Get out of this stuffy basement once in a while. Fresh air will do you good."

"In case you haven't noticed, I don't breath."

Her cold shoulder was making his teeth grate. Walter struggled to keep his cool. Alucard brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes and turned away from him.

"Maybe you're down here for yourself," she muttered.

"What?"

"Are you down here because you thought you could somehow get through to me, I will fall into your arms, and we'll live happily ever after? If that's the case, then you're wasting your time more than anything."

His grip on her shoulder had tightened. If she noticed, she gave no sign. "What do you think you're accomplishing by acting like this?"

"Me? Nothing," she replied. "Absolutely nothing. Unlike you, I don't always have to have a purpose."

Walter hesitated. "Arthur is considering sealing you down here."

"Is he?" she sounded amused. "There's an idea."

"I don't want that to happen."

"What do you have to do with it?" she asked nonchalantly. "It'll be a favor to everyone. One less thing on your mind. Seal me down here, life goes on for everyone else. It's the perfect solution."

He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her down into the coffin. He wasn't even sure what he planned to do, but before he could stop himself, he was inside the coffin, kneeling over her, straddling her small form and holding her still. His mind dimly remembered her threat to beat him "black and blue" should he lay another hand on her, but all he wanted to do was shut her up, make her stop saying those disheartening things.

She didn't resist. Even as he held her down she did nothing.

He knelt over her, and stayed there, not sure what would come next, what he even wanted to do. She smiled.

"Well, well," she said, "seems you want to finish what was started all those years ago. Alright. Call it your last hurrah. Go ahead, take what you want."

His fingers were trembling.

"Go on."

He was breathing hard, trying to think. She was so close, and willing, but he couldn't move.

"No?"

Slowly, he lifted himself off her and got out of the coffin. His limbs were numb. He moved like a stiff puppet. She sat up as he straightened his clothing and headed for the door. "You whine because you can't have what you want," she said, "and yet you don't have the guts to take it when it's offered to you. You really are a pathetic boy, Walter."

He drove his fist into the stone wall and would have cracked his knuckles if not for his gloves. Her laughter followed him out of the dungeons.

When he returned to his room that evening, a white card laid on his desk. He memorized the phone number immediately and burned the card in the ashtray. Then, he took Arthur's shopping list and stopped at the corner phone booth before going to the market. It ran twice before someone picked up. The person on the other end said nothing.

"She's going to be sealed," he said, and hung up.


	10. Chapter 10

CH 10

They came for her at dusk. For this task, Arthur brought only Walter with him. It was a sign of trust, perhaps, or maybe he thought none of his other staff could hold their own should Alucard try to resist. As Walter had predicted, she didn't.

They selected a rarely frequented room and bound her like a mad dog. Her body was wrapped in a straitjacket made of hard leather, her arms bound behind her. She only smirked as Walter fastened the layer after layer of straps and buckles around her body.

"Why is all of this necessary, sir?"

Arthur, who stood watching behind him, didn't seem to hear the question. Alucard leaned forward and whispered into his ear. "Don't you know? Starvation is a painful process for a vampire. It could take days, weeks even, before I fall into a comatose state. These straps are to keep me from hurting myself."

The thought tied a knot in his stomach, but Walter kept working without another word.

She wasn't afraid. Had she been a normal human the thought of the weeks of suffering coming her way would drive her mad, perhaps even to beg for mercy. But when the last strap was secured, Alucard merely raised her head and smiled at the men.

"Master," she said to Arthur, "I hope that when I return, it is you who releases me."

"Perhaps," replied Arthur, "or someone else suitable. Should you be released by the next head of Hellsing, swear to me that you will give your utmost loyalty to them, as you have to me."

She bowed, dipping her head as much as she could with the rest of her body immobilized. "I swear on my immortal soul, master."

Arthur nodded, and walked out of the cold room. It was to be the last time he laid eyes on his vampire servant and one-time lover. Alucard watched him go, then turned to Walter. "I hope you will still be alive, Angel of Death, upon my return. I have grown rather fond of you, despite your occasionally foolishness."

He couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not. "How long do you expect to be down here?" he asked.

Alucard leaned back against the wall. "I have no idea, and it doesn't matter. Some peace and quiet won't be so bad, and I trust that, eventually, I will be released again, by someone extraordinary. The one who willingly releases a monster must be extraordinary."

She met Walter's eyes. "You are a brash boy, Walter. After all these years you haven't changed. But, when I return, should you still be alive, I hope you will have found what you've been trying to look for in me."

He left the room after that. Arthur had cut open his head and drawn a large symbol over the heavy door in his blood.

"This is her seal," he told Walter. "It can only be broken by one fitting of releasing her. To be honest, I hope it will not be me."

"Why is that, sir?"

"Because she is destruction embodied. If there is a need for her to be released, it means disaster and doom, even worse than what she is capable of, are coming our way."

They left the dungeons. Walter helped his master bandage his hand, then went about his usual work around the house. An hour later, he returned to the dungeon and took a long look at the door. Another hour later he repeated the task. Then again. And again. The door stood silent and unchanging each time.

He could not sleep that night, but instead stayed away, smoking a cigarette by the window and wondering if she was beginning to feel the gnawing pain of hunger in the floor below him. He returned to her prison again at the crack of dawn, pressed his ear to the door, and listened. It was silent as a tomb.

The reality of it all slowly sunk in, and he wept, kneeling before the door. He wasn't sure who his tears were for. Perhaps her, for being locked away to suffer alone, or perhaps for himself, facing a long life ahead of him, quite possibly never seeing her face again.

Or maybe it was disappointment. Disappointment at the fact that, after all he had done for her, all she could wish him was that he would find happiness with someone else.

For her, he had bled.

For her, he had shed tears of sorrow and anger.

For her, he had betrayed his master and the only family he had ever known.

And he swore that, when she returned, he would be there, and this time, she would not overlook him. Never again. She would notice him, and for the pain she'd caused him, she would suffer the final blow dealt by his hand.

oOo

_1965_

"Walter?"

He shook himself out of a cloud of memories. The woman next to him was gazing at him with a mix of sympathy and sadness.

"You're still thinking about her, aren't you?"

Her name was Marian, not Harriet. He had picked it up when they became reacquainted a few years ago. Her shape had largely unchanged since her youth, she still smiled often, and at 37 years old her eyes had become a matronly gray. Perhaps it was her kindness that drew her to him once more, after sensing his distress at Alucard's disappearance. They developed a strange sort of relationship that was one part friendship and two parts physical. It was nice, sometimes.

"After all these years and you still can't forget about her."

He shook his head. "She's not an easy person to forget."

Marian turned onto her side, pulling the bed sheet over her torso. "I find it strange that she would have so much impact on you. After all, you were only children back then. And the way she just disappeared without a trace…"

The only ones who knew of Alucard's true condition were Walter and Arthur. The household staff were not told and did not ask. Instead, they gossiped amongst each other, trying to piece the story together and failing.

"Was she your first love?"

"Something like that."

"You have told me she kept hurting you, over and over, but yet you keep going back to her. Even now, you can't let her go, can you?"

"Are you jealous?"

She shook her head. "I'm too old for that kind of thing."

He knew she was being absolutely honest.

After Alucard was sealed away, life went on, simply because there was no way to stop it. For a while, he went down to the dungeons several times a day. Then it turned to once a day, then twice a week. Finally, it dwindled to once a month, and two years after Arthur drew the sealing symbol, he stopped going altogether.

He was nearly a middle-aged man now, tall and handsome with dark eyes and a lean body. Somewhere along the line he had picked up a habit of furrowing his brow unprovoked, which, given his stature, sent a chill of fear down the backs of most visitors to the house. It was the main reason why, despite his exquisite looks, Marian was the only female in the house who dared to lay with him.

Arthur had grown old. His hair was peppered with white and he had taken to growing a beard and mustache. Compared to the sleeked young man he was when Walter first entered the house, he now looked more scholarly, a bit older and a bit wiser. Though his personality, as far as Walter could tell, hasn't changed a bit.

He received a new card each week, usually in obscure pockets and nooks of his room. He burned each one after memorizing the number, though he has not made a call since Alucard's sealing. The cat boy named Schrodinger had not appeared either, perhaps knowing that was nothing worth reporting.

He passed his time learning weaponry. Creating and designing weapons for the soldiers became more of a habit than a hobby. During his free time, he would hole up in the small workshop he had set up for himself in the basement, on the opposite side of Alucard's keep, and while away the time tweaking with one thing or another.

Marian climbed out of bed and began to dress herself. "Come on," she said. "Those old knights are stopping by again. We have to clean up the conference hall before they arrive."

He followed suit, dressing himself and tying back his hair. It was getting a bit too long, but he didn't really mind. The glasses he was fitted for a few years ago were sitting on the nightstand. He picked it up.

_If I smashed this on the floor, would you hear it?_

oOo

After finishing up in the conference hall, Walter brought Arthur's usual afternoon tea. Upon entering the office, however, he was greeted with a surprise.

Sitting across Arthur's desk was a young man. He looked in his mid-twenties, sleek and moist with the beauty of youth. As he turned to look at Walter, his oily hazel eyes narrowed slightly, as if already questioning his ability to do this job before they were even formally introduced. He was wearing a tailored suit that molded his body the only way 3000 piece of clothing could.

"Ah, Walter!" Arthur exclaimed excitedly. "Do come in. I'd like you to meet my brother, Richard! He has just returned from schooling abroad."

Until this day, he had never known that Arthur had siblings, or any other living family. And this boy before him looking nothing like Arthur. His features were sharp and angled, and his hair was tight and brown, pasted to his skull with gel. Compared to Arthur's wide smile and tussled blond mane, Walter couldn't spot a slick of resemblance.

Still, he stepped forward, set down the tray of tea, and bowed politely. "An honor to meet you, sir."

Richard nodded at him curtly as if doing him a favor by acknowledging his presence and turned to Arthur. "You are not listening to me, brother," he said. "You could do so much more with this operation. Vampire population control is government funded. There is no profit in it."

Arthur glanced at Walter. Sensing his intention, Walter turned and headed out. He slowed his step, however, just to catch a few more words.

"In peace times you can rent your forces out as private armies, escorts to arms transports, there are hundreds of possibilities."

_Interesting_.

Arthur sighed. "Our job is to protect the country and its people, Richard, not to make money."

"There is no harm in doing both."

He closed the door behind him. Marian was standing in the hall. Seeing him, she pursed her lips. "I see you've met the cretin."

He nodded. "I wasn't aware there was a Richard Hellsing."

"He is no Hellsing," she spat bitterly. "He and the master are not even related by blood. He is the bastard son of the second wife of the previous Sir Hellsing."

"I thought the previous Sir Hellsing died over thirty years ago."

"He did." Marian's eyes were cold as ice. Walter had never seen her so upset. "That woman did not even remarry. God knows what wino off the street fathered that child. Some years ago she contacted Arthur to ask for help to put her boy through school, and like the kind man he is he did as she asked, and is even taking care of that little runt, talking about letting him into this house. It's a disgrace!"

Walter was already lost in thought. At that moment, the office door opened and Richard came strolling out. He walked right between them as if they did not exist. Marian scoffed in offense while Walter watched him go.

Richard was a fool. It wasn't hard to tell. But it may not be a bad thing. He wasn't sure how yet, but Richard's putrid brain and Arthur's seemingly unfounded affection for him could prove to be useful.


	11. Chapter 11

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have formed, in my own twisted Hellsing universe, the backstory that led to Integra's birth.

CH. 11

A woman's voice answered this time. "Hello? Get away from my hair, you stupid cat!"

Sometimes he seriously wondered about the questionable characters that served the Major. "He has a brother."

"Who does?"

"Arthur Hellsing."

There was a pause. "Well don't that beat all? What's your assessment?"

He chortled. "A damnable fool if there ever was one."

Another pause. He heard the woman exchange words with someone. "Watch him," she said, "we trust your judgment, but he can't be underestimated either. If he's truly a fool, then don't make a move. If he seems like he could be trouble…" Someone in the background spoke softly. "What was that? Oh, OK. Kill him and make it look like an accident."

"Fine." He hung up, turned around, and wasn't as surprised as he thought he would be at the sight of the boy standing right outside the phone booth. He also wasn't a bit surprised to see that the boy hasn't changed a bit after all these years.

"I'm here to deliver your first order," he said as Walter stepped out. "It is a sign of the Major's ultimate trust in you. You should be pleased."

He wasn't pleased nor displeased.

"Release the vampire."

He thought he had heard wrong. "What?"

"Not right away. It is merely something you should prepare for. And you cannot simply walk to her room and open the door. You said she is sealed, correct?" He nodded. "If Arthur did his job right, then only one a Hellsing noble can open it. It is up to you to find a way without comprising yourself and revealing your association to us. It is still vital that this partnership remains hidden."

"Why do you wish for her to be released? Whatever it is that fat Major is doing, isn't it easier with her out of the way?"

Schrodinger's lips curled into a secretive grin. "You needn't concern yourself with such things. All you need to know is, to complete our plan, she must walk free when the time comes."

"And when will that be?"

"If all goes right, right before the turn of the century. You have until then. Don't go thinking you have plenty of time, because you do not. The major trusts you to find the perfect timing for her release. Use your best judgment, don't mess up. And should you succeed, you will be given a reward – the honor of being the vampire Alucard's last opponent."

The thought made his heart pound. He kept it in check and asked the last question on his mind. "Why do you not simply ask me to wipe out the family?"

Schrodinger laughed crisply. "You certainly are the Angel of Death," he said. "There are two reasons. The first is you will not be able to, at least not as you are now. Traitor you may be, you are not cold-blooded in your ways – though I'm sure that can be fixed later. Though it may sound easy, you do not have it in you to end innocent lives, especially that of your master of so many years. Am I wrong?"

He said nothing. The boy did not wait for an answer.

"The second is that should you actually manage to accomplish that task, it would take us no closer to the Major's goal. You see, butler, the war we are preparing for is not against a whole, but against one."

Upon his return to the mansion, Richard was standing in the foyer, smoking a cigarette. Walter brushed past him gently, then stopped, as if a thought had just struck him.

"You know, sir," he said softly, "I absolutely agree with what you said before. This organization could be doing bigger and better things."

Richard looked him up and down, his face splitting into a grin. "Well, well," he chortled, "seems the help around here isn't completely incompetent after all. Walter, was it?"

The game was in motion.

oOo

1972

"I wish you would let me take on a more active role in the organization, Arthur."

As usual, Walter stepped back and kept quiet, occasionally filling the teacups and saying nothing. His job was to listen.

"I know you want to exert yourself more." Arthur stirred his tea thoughtfully. "But in the peace times the work revolves mainly around maintenance, not business."

"Peace time is the perfect opportunity to expand the operation, test out new venues."

"But that isn't our purpose."

Richard's presence in the house had been something of a nuisance to the staff. Just as Marian had said, he was hard-headed, obnoxious, and overly ambitious in all the wrong ways. He constantly pressed Arthur to pursue Hellsing's money-making prospects, and always had an orchestra of hare-brained ideas he was prepared to put into action. Against all odds, however, Arthur adored his brother, and placed the utmost trust in him. The reason, Walter eventually deduced, was because family had been a rare thing for Arthur, and though he couldn't be blind to his brother's ways, having a family was much too important to him.

Walter found it amusing.

Over the years he had developed something of a secret rapport with Richard. While everyone else avoided him like the plague, Walter saw a prime opening. A fool in power was a useful tool, and by keeping Richard close and earning his trust, he may find the pompous idiot to be useful one day.

An hour later, Arthur retired for the night. Walter stepped forward to clear the cups while Richard lit a cigarette.

"Your master is a close-minded old fool."

Walter let a calculated smile crease his face. "I would never speak ill of my master, sir. But I admit he is a bit set in his ways."

"You're a smart guy, Walter. Tell you what," Richard leaned forward in his chair with a sneer on his face, "when I take over, I'll still keep you around, maybe even give you a raise. You can help me with the ins and outs of this place, put it to better use."

Walter pretended to be surprised. "Is Sir Hellsing planning to retire?"

Richard blew a sloppy cloud of smoke into the air. "He will. Trust me, he will have to soon. He's getting up there in years, and he's not exactly a saint in his ways of living. You think I haven't noticed the smokes, booze, and women? It'll catch up to him. And when it does, he will have no one to leave this place to but me."

Taking his time with the cups, Walter tried to imagine Richard trying to lead Hellsing against whatever it was the Major had planned. It was comparable to watching a fish getting shot in a bucket.

"Well, sir," he said to Richard, "I must say I am excited at the prospect of a change of pace."

oOo

1974

It was an eventful year save for one thing. 1974 was the year Walter first laid eyes on Elizabeth Wingates, the woman who was to play a major part in the history of Hellsing that she herself wasn't even aware of.

She was a beautiful woman, tall and striking, with flowing dark hair and eyes hard as diamonds. In the spring of that year she appeared on Arthur's arm. No one was sure where she came from or why she was always in Arthur's company. And in all honesty, she would have seemed more fitting by Richard's side – they both carried a cold air of arrogance toward those they thought to be beneath them.

At first Walter took no special notice of her. After all, Arthur made a side career out of romancing women. Though she was better dressed than his usual consorts, nothing else stood out about her. It wasn't until she had stuck around for three months that Walter realized something was different.

It was rare for Arthur to court a woman for more than a month or two. His attention for such things were flighty at best. And yet, Elizabeth came around regularly three times a week. She said little to the household staff and often accompanied Arthur in his office as well as the bedroom. There was something about the way she looked at him, with a gaze that was calculatedly affectionate instead of loving.

It wasn't long after that that the rest of the house began to talk about her. Gossip resonated through the mansion. Some said she was a foreign princess under Hellsing's protection – she certainly looked like royalty. Some said she was a con artist after Hellsing's treasury. Still others said she was mad and unstable and Arthur was taking pity on her.

"Just look at her eyes," they would say. "It's like a rabid animal's."

Walter usually gave no thoughts to the rumors. After all, when Alucard was around, enough rumors had surrounded her, making her everything from a peasant orphan to the Queen's lovechild. Rumors were not to be believed in.

Still, what they said about her eyes were true. They betrayed hidden darkness.

He wasn't certain of Arthur's feelings for her. For a long while it seemed he adored Elizabeth, taking her everywhere and buying her expensive things. But then it seemed to dwindle to a mere show of kindness. She didn't seem to mind. She came and went, regular as clockwork, for nearly an entire year.

And then, she disappeared. At the time, no one thought much about it.


	12. Chapter 12

CH. 12

"I found out who she is."

Walter turned on his side, away from Marian. If the mansion was a hive of gossip, she was the queen. After a long day of work, he wasn't in the mood to hear more gossip, but of course that wasn't going to stop her.

"She's from a fallen family." When he didn't respond, she assumed he was interested. "Her family lost their fortune in the war, when she was still a child, and she had been going from one relative's house to another, getting shuffled around. I think the master took pity on her and cared for her for a while."

Despite his effort to tune her out, Walter found himself slightly intrigued.

"But I hear she's not quite right in the mind."

"And why is that?"

"Supposedly while staying with an aunt, their house was attacked, and she witnessed several of her family members become meals to vampires."

"How ironic then that she should wind up in Arthur's company."

"I think the master feels guilty for all the families he couldn't save. He's a good man."

For every day that runt runs free, we have to put another innocent human out of their misery.

He wondered if one of the many ghouls that fell apart from his wires had been that woman's family. Laying on his back, he gazed up at the ceiling. Victims of war. There were far too many.

"You're thinking about her."

"Well, yes, we're talking about her, aren't we?"

Marian shook her head and sighed. "Not Miss Wingates. That girl, the one who disappeared. I can always tell when you're thinking about her. Sometimes your face scares me when you think about her, Walter, like you're preparing for a bloodbath. You're not the Angel of Death anymore, and you're not fourteen. Will you ever let her go?"

I wish I could.

A few hours later, as Marian snored softly next to him, he snuck out of bed and descended the dungeon steps. That old door was still the same. The pattern drawn by Arthur's blood had long dried and was fading here and there. Mildew had formed in its corners, and the hinges had rusted slightly.

Do you know I'm out here?

He thought he could hear a faint voice, but it was likely just his own empty hopes and imagination. He touched his hand to the door gently. There was a wave of energy, ever so faintly. He felt it in each of his senses – her smell, her touch, her face. It was the very essence of her, so very strong that it seeped through the cell that held her.

Instead of going back to bed, he went to his workshop and tinkered away with his tools and half-made weapons for the rest of the night.

oOo

1976

The fact that Arthur's endless stream of women had finally dried up took a while to dawn on Walter. It wasn't until one cold night that he realized he was no longer fishing loose brassieres out from behind his master's bed and hiding stray high heels from notable company. The realization was somewhat unsettling.

Arthur had grown restless in the past few months. He was on the phone often, talking in a hushed voice. The secrets of Hellsing were many, but there were few that Walter himself was ignorant of. At first he didn't take it to heart. It was Richard who brought it to his attention.

"He's trying to muscle me out."

Walter poured brandy into a thick glass and lit his cigarette. "What makes you say that, sir?"

Richard shook his head derisively. "Walter," he droned, "Walter, Walter, Walter. That is why you are still a butler. Don't you see what he is doing? He's making arrangements to have the estate go to someone else."

"Or perhaps he is making arrangements to have them go to you when he, heaven forbid, passes on unexpectedly."

"If that were the case, he would not keep such secrets from me. Mark my words, he's up to something. And damned if I'm going to let it get in my way." Richard leaned back and took a long, seemingly thoughtful drag from his cigarette. "You're not hiding anything from me, are you, Walter?"

Walter shook his head and smiled. As he made the transition from the young, able-bodied butler to an old English gentleman, he had mastered a kind, unassuming smile that he found very useful over the years. "I wouldn't think of it, sir. As I've told you before, I am on your side. It is in my best interest that this house prospers, and its current master is simply falling behind on the times. Not to worry, should I come across anything of use to you, I will report it immediately. Unfortunately, the master has even kept recent going-ons hidden from me."

"Something's fishy," Richard muttered. "Just be watchful. I don't want something big slipping out from under my nose."

For once, Richard was right. However, he was also completely off the mark. Departing from the man's repulsive presence in the drawing room, Walter went to drop in on his master in his office, entering the door just in time to see Arthur drop the telephone receiver heavily onto his desk. His face was pale and Walter could swear his hand was shaking.

"W-Walter," he stammered. "We have to go."

Walter set the tray of tea and sugars on the desk. "Are you alright, sir? Perhaps you should calm yourself first."

Arthur stepped in front of him in two strides and gripped his arm, actually managing to take Walter by surprise. "No," he said shakily, "we have to go immediately. Get me two guards. You're coming, too!"

Then he was gone, running out of the office at a speed unbefitting of a man of his age. Walter quickly followed, barking to the household staff to fetch Arthur's personal body guards and meet them out front. Arthur was descending the stairs much too quickly, trying to talk over his shoulder.

"Get Richard," he said, "tell him to… uh…"

"Mr. Richard is not around, sir."

Arthur waved him off. "No matter. Bring a car around. Hurry!"

"Sir, if you could tell me what this is…"

Arthur stopped in his tracks. Had Walter not being quick in stopping his own steps he might have knocked his master down half a flight of stairs. When his master turned, he saw despair like he'd never seen since he set foot into the house.

"I will explain everything to you when we come back," he said, then added, "I'm sorry."

oOo

The house they arrived at, driving like a maniac under Arthur's orders, was a small town home in a somewhat debilitated neighborhood. The houses to either side were obviously unoccupied and had fallen to harder times. The house itself, however, was fairly well-maintained, with a groomed lawn and shingled roof. The only thing that caught Walter's attention about it, however, was a sense of foreboding.

His nose caught the scent of blood the moment he stepped out of the car. It was the smell of wild, crazed bloodlust given off by newborn vampires. It was everywhere. His hunter's senses tingled. When Arthur got out, he raised an arm to stop his master from advancing.

"Stay back, sir."

Years. It had been years since he'd hunted. So many dull, boring nights spent tinkering away in the basement, trying to get her face out of his head. He hadn't even realized how much he missed being out of the house, drowned in the thrill of the hunt.

He went to the door. From inside came a soft scratching noise. Almost too faint for the human ear. The foolish thing was trying to jump him. Alone. As she always said, the young ones were foolish, and it was better for them to die before they learned how foolish they were, so they don't get smarter next time.

Arthur was starting to approach, worry lining his face. Walter gestured for him to wait. There was only one target inside, and it wanted to play. He waited. He could sense it moving about.

Not yet.

Not yet.

The occupants of the house were surely dead or ghouls by now. There was no point in hurrying.

Now.

He let lose his wires. The door burst into splinters, as did the vampire behind it. Blood and wood chips flew all around him in a storm. It felt wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. Before he could finish enjoying it, however, Arthur had already pushed past him into the house, his own handgun leveled, searching this way and that.

Something didn't feel right. The guards also seemed confused, but they were good men and, then own weapons drawn, followed their master inside.

The house was dark and smelled of blood and potpourri. The inside was surprisingly clean and homey, save for the sleek trail of red leading down the center hall to a bedroom in the corner. Walter heard Arthur say something in a shaky voice but couldn't make out the words. His master was not a coward, nor was he queasy at the sight of blood. In fact, he was the one who made his part of his job to bring every vulgar vampire-related joke onto the field.

But this time it was different. Walter slid past the guards into the small bedroom.

Arthur's gun was raised, the hammer thrown back in ready position. But he did not fire. Following his gaze, Walter looked across a large four-post bed to the woman he was aiming at.

She was dead. Half her neck was missing, tendrils of flesh and skin dangling over exposed bone. Blood seeping over her body, which swayed unsteadily, long legs seeking purchase here and there, trying to stay standing. Her eyes were blank, rolled back half way into her head. But Walter still recognized them. Those diamond eyes under that dark sleek mane.

"Good God, Elizabeth," he heard Arthur say, his voice full of sorrow, "I told you to stay, didn't I? I told you…"

The ghoul that once was Elizabeth Wingates said nothing. She took a hesitant step toward them and bumped against the bedpost.

Walter leaned toward Arthur. "Sir," he said, "you have to…"

A squeak came from under his foot. Looking down, Walter saw that he had stepped on a stuffed doll in the shape of a duck. He started to kick it away when the realization dawned on him. As if on cue, a little blond head peeked over the side of the bed. It bobbed, up and down, then disappeared and reappeared next to the ghoul.

"Mama," she said questioningly. It was probably the only sound she knew how to make. Hell, she was barely old enough to walk.

The ghoul looked down at her.

"Mama."

It knelt and held out her arms awkwardly. For a moment Walter thought it actually recognized its child even in death, but then it grabbed the baby by her arms and opened its black mouth.

Arthur fired.

Blood and gore drenched the child's clothes. She stood there, her headless mother still gripping her arms. Then the body fell away to the side. One of the guards dashed forward and picked the baby up, pulling her away from the body.

She screamed, shrilly and fearfully the moment he touched her, reaching out for the dead body with her chubby little hands. Arthur took off his jacket, wrapped it around her, and took her into his own arms.

"Mama!" she shrieked as he carried her away without a word. "Mama!"


	13. Chapter 13

AUTHOR'S NOTE: the story of Integra's mother, a la my Hellsingverse.

Ch. 13

They sat in the car side by side, Arthur with the wriggling little girl in his arms, and Walter gazing on with wonder. Arthur's eyes were empty and tired, and he said nothing, made no effort to explain. When the guards came out, he said something to them and they turned back into the house. Walter asked no questions.

The little girl calmed down after a few minutes, looking around timidly. She had inherited her mother's diamond eyes, blue and hard, and her skin was fair and smooth. Walter wondered, briefly, if she was old enough to label them as her mother's murderer in her mind. A few moments later, the guards returned. One of them handed a stack of papers to Arthur.

"This was all we could find," he said.

Arthur handed the papers to Walter absently. "Thank you," he said, "you can alert the local authorities now."

"Yes, sir."

Walter flipped through the documents in his hand. They were the girl's birth certificate and other medical records. She was eleven months old.

"Integra," he read, "full name Integral Fairbrook Wingates."

"Hellsing."

Startled, he turned to Arthur, who was holding the child tightly. "I beg your pardon, sir?"

"Integral Fairbrook Wingates _Hellsing_."

oOo

By the time they returned to the house, little Integra was asleep on Arthur's shoulder, remnants of her leaky eyes and nose still smeared over her cheeks. Marian took to her immediately, cooing over her and fretting over the bloodstains and her dirty face. Arthur let the maid have her own way with the child and ascended the stairs to the library. Walter followed.

Arthur turned on a single lamp and settled in his favorite chair. Walter poured a glass of brandy for him.

"Two," Arthur said, "make one for yourself."

Walter took a seat across his master. Outside, he could hear Marian talking to the child. She had probably just finished bathing her. Had she stopped crying? Or will she spend the rest of her life re-playing her mother's gruesome death over and over in her mind? Arthur was drinking slowly. Tonight, he looked old.

"You can guess, can't you?"

Walter started to shake his head, but there was no point in denying the obvious, so he nodded. "I can, but I don't like to make assumptions. I would rather hear the truth than hearsay."

Arthur chuckled. "Yes, now that rumors will really fly, won't they? The master's illegitimate child. Well, to hell with them. I don't care what they have to say about it. But you, Walter…" His voice drifted off. "I trust you, and I feel that I've been unjustified in hiding this from you, and I apologize."

Silence fell over them for a long moment as Walter waited for the feeling of guilt to flood over him. The guilt of having betrayed his master who was so loyal to him all these years. He waited for it, and waited for it. But it did not come.

"I hold no ill will toward you, sir," he said, "I never will."

That was true. It was not Arthur who deserved his ill will.

Arthur smiled sadly in the quivering light. "You're a good man. Now then, since we're here, I'm going to tell you the story of Elizabeth Wingates.

"I met her at a get-together a few years ago. It was a party held for the rich and privileged. I was there for appearances, and she was simply there. We were both bored, and she was beautiful. God help me, she was beautiful. I saw her across the room and tried to slip her one of my one-liners, and you know the first thing she said to me?"

"What's that, sir?"

"She looked me straight in the eyes and said, 'you are a man who chases and does not love'. How do you like that? It took my wall down right then and there. She told me if I didn't take off my mask she wouldn't talk to me. So we talked. We talked all night, about everything. She was so smart, but also so cold. She would not be touched by anyone, and there were plenty of younger men seeking her attention.

"When I went to seek her out some days later, imagine my surprise that she lived in such a humble abode. I was certain she wouldn't see me, and that would be the end of it, but she allowed me into her house and showed me many texts that she had collected over the years. She wore her hair up that day and she had on a pair of wire-rim glasses. She had books about vampires, folk lore, mythology… then, when we were done with that, she sat me down and told me her story. It was so interesting the way she told it, completely detached as if it happened to someone else.

"She lost her parents at a young age. They were on an outing and a low-level runt attacked them out of the blue. The noise attracted a hunter who was nearby, and the man got lucky with a headshot. It was too late to save her parents, and she was orphaned.

"Her family was fairly wealthy, but her relatives didn't take to her. After being shuffled around, she lived with an elderly aunt for a few years, trying, at the old woman's request, to fit into the social circles she was born into. It didn't go well, and she moved out. For appearances sakes, she still attended the occasional party to please her extended family.

"All of this has left her detached from humanity, rather cynical and antisocial, if you will. You must have thought her cold when you first met her. Let me assure you that was not the case. She merely had trouble conducting herself around people, having been told for most of her life what to do and how to act against her nature by those she wasn't fond of."

A sad smile lit Arthur's face, one Walter had never seen before.

"She didn't let me touch her that day either, or for months after that. You must think it so strange that I stuck around her for so long, knowing my track record. But I simply couldn't tear myself away. I invited her here, thinking she would turn me down flat, but once again she surprised me by saying yes. And she started coming regularly, just sitting across from me and talking to me. It drew me in, Walter. _She_ drew me in. She was so different.

"I dare say I loved her. I tried to shower her with affection and sweet words, even expensive gifts. She only took each with a thin smile and a light 'thank you'. If she loved me, it was a calculated love because she did not allow herself to become attached to others. It was a long time before we took to the bedroom, and, instead of burning with passion for each other, I suppose you could say we kept each other warm. Her detachment wore me out, and I could give love no more, so I gave kindness and friendship. We were close and dear to each other, nothing more.

"Then one day she came to me and informed me that she was with child. My child. I asked if she would like to become my wife and form a family, to which she answered 'no'. She knew my work, and she did not want our child to be exposed to such things too early. She wanted nothing from me. I asked her to at least stay, but she refused. She was not rejecting me. She did not want to tarnish my reputation, and at the same time wanted to raise the child in a more stable environment than I could offer. She promised she would tell me of the child often, that I could visit as often as I wanted, and that when it was older, she could bring it back here.

"It's so ironic. She took that child away so she wouldn't be exposed to the creatures of the night, and now that girl has met the same fate as her. She will grow up with no memory of her mother save for a bloodbath. When she called me, she was telling me our little girl was learning to walk, and she sounded happy, so much happier than I'd ever seen her, and then… she screamed."

Arthur's glass was empty. He reached over to the bottle and refilled it. Walter suddenly realized he hasn't taken a single sip from his own glass. He did, his mind reeling all the while. Arthur pointed to the library door.

"That's my daughter out there, Walter. I never thought about wanting children, but there she is. That's a hell of a start she's got. Now, I can only hope that there's a small chance she'll grow up strong and healthy in my incapable hands."

"I'm sure you can give her what she needs, sir."

"You are more optimistic than I am." Arthur not so much leaned as sunk back into his chair. He raised the glass of brandy and examined his haggard reflection in it. "Could you and Marian tend to my daughter for tonight, Walter? I'd like to drink a toast alone to my dear Elizabeth."

oOo

Marian had given Integra a bath, wrapped her in a warm towel, and given her an old rag doll to play with.

She was an adorable baby, with her mother's blue eyes and her father's blond crop. When Walter walked into the bathroom, she looked up expectantly, saw that it was not her mother, and turned back to the doll. Marian brushed her hair with a small comb.

"What did you people do to this poor girl?" she chided without turning around. "Thank goodness nothing happened to her. I was about to lose my marbles when I saw all that blood. Thank goodness she wasn't hurt."

Walter wasn't listening. Looking past her, he fixated his gaze on the child. Barely a year old, Integra already had hard eyes, so piercingly blue. They reminded him of Siberian Husky puppies, soft and lovable, but will grow into powerful killers if bred correctly. Her hair and features were a dead ringer for Arthur, though she may grow up to look like her mother. She was young. She was innocent. But she won't be for long.

Because she was a Hellsing.

Marian stood up and gazed down at the little girl. "We don't even have clothes for you," she said, kissing the baby's cheek. "You poor thing. Oh I hope they don't cart you off to some awful orphanage."

"She's staying here."

Marian spun around in surprise. "She is?"

"Can you not tell who she looks like?"

Marian studied Integra for a long time. A gasp escaped her lips. "You're not telling me that the master and that, that woman…"

He silenced her with a raised hand. "Don't worry yourself over it. You've always known what he's like. You ought to be glad he's taking responsibility instead of pitching the kid into the streets." The towel fell off of Integra's shoulders. Walter stepped forward and wrapped her up again. He picked her up. She fussed, but did not cry. "Go to bed," he said to Marian, "it's late. I'll find a place for this little one to sleep."

He didn't wait for her to protest. The little bundle in his arms, he descended the stairs. Lower. Lower. She gave him a questioning look.

"There's someone I want to meet you," he told her as they entered the dungeons. He stopped at the large metal door. How many years had she been sealed up, that little vampire Lolita? Had her body become nothing more than a husk, or did she retain her beauty even in a state of half-death?

Integra's eyes had widened. She stared at the door. He had no doubt that she could feel Alucard's energy radiating from behind it. It was her father's blood on the door. Could she feel Alucard in her own blood? It was very likely. That bond passed down in her family was now hers.

"There's someone in there," he whispered to her, certain that she understood. "She's very beautiful, but she's also very wicked. But you needn't be afraid of her. Someday she will belong to you."

She made a sound. Perhaps of acknowledgement. Walter held her close. There was something about the kid. He felt a strange sort of fondness toward her, but not the way one would normally love a child. It was the way a person viewed a trusty pocketknife or handy tool with affection. She had appeared unexpectedly, and she would be useful.

Richard was a rusty meat hook at best. Integra was a newly sharpened sword.

"That idiot you will call an uncle was right," he told her, "Hellsing could use a new director."

oOo

_Nothing._

_There was nothing around him. He looked up and saw clouds of silver mist. He looked down to see oblivion. The world had disappeared. He was standing on nothing, supported by nothing, in what appeared to be a never-ending cloud._

_But he was not alone. She was there. She had dispensed with her usual getup and was wearing a tank top and a pair of faded denim jeans that hugged her slim hips like a second skin. It was very strange to see her in pedestrian clothing. Her hair was cropped short at shoulder-length and dark as aged oil. Like him, she stood on nothing, her arms crossed. And like he had expected, she looked exactly the same._

_"Hello," he said, unable to think of anything else._

_"Who was it?" she asked, blunt and to the point as always. "Who did you bring to my door? Their presence was so strong it disturbed my slumber. And I was just getting comfortable."_

_"It was Arthur's daughter," he told her._

_Her brows arched in surprise. "So the director finally married."_

_"I didn't say that."_

_"Sired an illegitimate child with a prostitute then."_

_"I didn't say that either."_

_"Then say something useful." She rested one hand on her hip. "I do not have much time. Judging by the lines on your face, it has been years – years that I went without a drink. I cannot keep this up for very long. In a few minutes I will fall back into my slumber."_

_He told her Arthur's story, about the tragically beautiful Elizabeth Wingates and the little child she left behind. She listened with a smirk on her face._

_"I love it," she said after he finished. "It's wonderful. It's perfect. The little tragic heroine who made her start through her mother's death." Wrapping her slender arms around herself, she caressed her own skin as if lost in ecstasy. "I can feel her, Walter. All the way down here, I can still feel her. Her presence seeps through the walls like a fine wine through brown earth. It's like a candle being lit in my burnt-out husk. No one has made me feel this way in centuries and centuries."_

_His heart and stomach couldn't help but twist themselves into a knot, dream or not._

_"But who is giving off that stink?" she continued. "I can smell him, too. He is rotten to the very core."_

_He told her of Richard. _

_"So there is an antagonist to this play." Her hair swayed in the invisible wind. "How I wish I was above to watch it unfold."_

_"This is not a play. These are human lives."_

_"Life is but a stage, butler. We are all actors." Her fingers slid absently through her hair. "I must go now. This is tiring. But Walter, do take care of her. Keep her out of the grasp of that terrible man whose blood reeks to the heavens. And bring her to visit me again. I relish the idea of having a new master."_

_"You already see her as your new master?"_

_She giggled. "How can I not? She shines so brightly. I feel as if I could follow her, serve her, and worship her without hesitation or regret. And maybe, I could even love her, if she would allow me to."_

Walter opened his eyes. He thought he could still hear her voice in his head.

Love her.

Love her.

The new Hellsing had not even been in the house a day. She could barely walk and the only word she knew was "mama". And yet she had already earned the love of that beautiful cursed being below. She would not treasure that love, because she did not work to earn it. She did not desire it and yearn for it and have it torn away from her. And yet, the vampire loved her.

He was not as young and brash as he used to be. He no longer kept a razor hidden in his desk to service his darker moments. Instead, he went outside to the garden, smoked a cigarette, and gazed up at the moon.

oOo


	14. Chapter 14

AUTHOR'S NOTE: There hasn't been many updated because I went and got married last weekend. Hopefully the updates will be more regular from here on.

Ch. 14

_1982_

For the next half decade, Walter watched Arthur's amazing transformation from boozing womanizer to devoted father. He cut his hair. He stayed home as much as he could. He smoked less and smiled more. Every time he came home, the first question he always asked was always "Where is my daughter?"

For roughly a year after her arrival at the Hellsing house, Integra did not speak. Though her mind may be too young to fully process the events that occurred to her, she was not dulled to it. For hours at a time, Marian could be seen leading her by the hand through the halls. Actually, the little girl did the leading. She wanted to see inside each room, as if searching for something, and the only sound she made, on rare occasions, was "mama".

On her second birthday, Arthur formally introduced her to the Knights of the Round Table. They eyed her with disapproval, just as Walter expected. She was, after all, a child born out of wedlock to a noble. But, as they approached and stood over her, they forms looming over her tiny figure, she only stared back. The look in her blue eyes earned a speck of admiration from Walter, as if while they disapproved her, she disapproved them right back.

When she neared three years of age, she finally began to talk like a normal child. She spent much time with her father and Marian, whom she seemed to have identified as her new mother figure. Marian read to her often, and she asked many questions. The only one that never came out of her mouth was where her mother was.

Walter played his part. He doted on her when he could, and when she turned five, he began to assume the role of a part-time tutor to her. She was intelligent, but not abnormally so, and she was solemn. She took in everything he taught without hesitation, absorbing information like a sponge.

And there was something else about her. Walter couldn't quite put his finger on it. There was something very unsettling about her.

"Walter," she asked him once during their grammar lesson, "who else lives in this house?"

He had taken off his glasses and cleaned them nonchalantly. "Whatever do you mean, Miss Integra?"

"Who lives in this house?"

"Why, you do, of course. And your father, and me, and Miss Marian, and…"

She slapped a small hand over his mouth. "No, no," she said. "Someone else. I think someone else lives in this house."

"I don't believe I know what you mean." He knew exactly what she meant. "Do you perhaps think the house is haunted?"

She considered this for a moment before turning back to the book. "Yea," she said softly, half to herself. "Maybe that's it."

Another person was watching the girl with careful eyes each passing day. Walter was well-aware of Richard's distain for her. Every time they passed in the hall, Richard would pull him aside and ask seemingly harmless questions about his brother's daughter. The fact that they were both born as illegitimate offspring did not seem to solicit any sympathy for the girl from him. It was obvious that, though she was still just a child, Richard felt threatened by her, fearing she would usurp the throne that was not his to begin with. Walter found the idea funny, but not unfounded.

Alucard was right. She shone like no other. But it was not a warm, cheerful light like the spring sun, more like the dark fire roaring over a mountain of corpses on a stricken battlefield. If she was an angel fallen from heaven, then Saint Peter himself must have given her a nudge when she wasn't watching.

She did not have a malevolent spirit, nor a purely innocent one. She was, in a word, fascinating. She had seen death before she was old enough to know its name, and in that, Walter found a sliver of grudging respect.

oOo

1985

"I think, Walter, that I should educate her."

Walter set the tray of tea and crumpets down on Arthur's table. Richard was in the corner, undoubtedly listening closely under the pretense of being occupied by the bookshelf. "Miss Integra already has a fine tutor, sir. What is it that you propose we ought to add to the lesson plans?"

Arthur's eyes darted to the side ever so slightly, but Walter caught the movement with ease. Despite his devotion to his brother, there were certain things Arthur never did reveal to Richard. Secretly, Walter had always been glad that his master was not completely blind to the man's nature. Should the greasy fellow ever take over Hellsing, there was at least one thing out of his reach, the house's most powerful weapon and its true treasure.

"You wish to teach her the works of the organization, sir? Isn't she a bit young?"

"If you mean she is too young to be exposed to the reality of vampires, then I'd say it's already too late for that. I'd say her lesson started the day she lost her poor mother."

"But, sir…"

The office door opened with a soft click and a small blond head peeked inside. Arthur favored his daughter with a smile. Integra returned it, revealing a mouthful of crooked teeth.

"I will be down to dinner in a minute, dear," he said, gesturing to Richard. "Uncle Richard will come down with you for now."

Walter could almost feel the tremor of Richard's dissatisfaction at this decision. He did not protest, however, as he had taken every opportunity to act as if he was more than fond of his brother's child. Integra's face fell visibly, but she also held her tongue as Richard ushered her out of the room, but not before tossing a gaze to Walter. The butler sighed. He would have to conjure up some fake information for the man later.

As soon as the door closed, he turned to face Arthur. It didn't take much to know what his master wanted.

"I hope it won't come to it."

"But you expect it, sir. You think that one day your daughter will be the one to hold her leash."

Arthur chuckled dryly. "She never ceases to make trouble, does she? That girl who has aged more than anyone on this planet and still retains her beauty. Even sealed away she's a cause for concern."

"What do you suppose should happen, Sir Hellsing, that would call for her to be released?"

For a moment, a hard, sudden moment, Walter thought Arthur's gaze would peer through him. It wasn't the fear of discovery, but the apprehension that all these years of living a traitor's life would be all for nothing that made his knees weak. He stood, unmoving, as if a slight movement from him would bring the world down on their heads. Then, it was gone. Arthur's eyes softened again.

"If it were up to me to guess, I'd have to say the end of the world."

oOo

1988

Marian was an old woman now. Walter supposed he wasn't exactly a young lad anymore either, but he tended to carry his age better than most. It was strange watching Marian grow old before his eyes – he had thought it would bother him. It didn't. Not really. Over the last few decades, their relationship had become a thing of habit, a part of his life. They were unspoken partners, an undeclared couple. Under different circumstances, Walter figured, he might have married her, and waited out their old age together. But as it was, he felt little more than stony pity at the sight of her lined face and sagging body.

She had crow's feet, and her hands trembled with the effects of arthritis as she fixed Integra's hair. The girl was not blind to her caretaker's ailing health, though instead of saying words of condolence, she acted instead. She was now the one who guided Marian through the mansion's halls now, and instead of taking walks, they sat in the library and read in the evenings.

Integra entered the ugly duckling stage slightly more gracefully than most girls, although it could easily be solemnity mistaken for grace. The same way she treated Marian's inevitable retirement, she treated the shedding of her baby teeth and the onset of puberty – with a quiet nod, barely an acknowledgement. Her hair had grown long, and she had begun to wear glasses, a result of too many nights spent in the library growing up.

Exactly how much she knew of her household was still a slight mystery to Walter. Arthur had taken it upon himself to teach her, behind closed doors, of the ways of the organization. When she exited his office after the first few lessons, her face was ashen. But as time went on, she seemed to accept reality for what it was – ugly and harsh. Walter sometimes wondered how much she really understood. For her sake, he hoped it wasn't too much. She was to be a shield between the human and the inhuman. To know too much in that situation was to fall into madness.

One thing remained certain – she did not know the existence of Alucard. He had prodded her gently on the subject, and she had remained oblivious.

It was a turbulent year for the Hellsing household and its soon-to-be young master. It was the year that Arthur began to cough more than usual, the year doctors came and went and stayed longer each time. It was the year Integra came into womanhood and the year men dressed in dark suits began to move into the mansion, always at Richard's beck and call. It was also the year Walter started down a path that would eventually put him on the bad side of the most dangerous organization in the world.

In a way, Marian was the one who opened that path to him. On a warm Sunday evening, as they sat on the terrace sipping tea together, she told him her decision.

"I have decided to leave."

He wondered if he would miss her. "Where would you go?"

"To a quiet little place in the country, perhaps. This life isn't for my old bones anymore. I can't do much work and Miss Integra is growing up. She doesn't need me any longer." She stirred the tea, a small task that required more of her effort than it should. She looked very tired.

"If that is your decision," Walter said, "then I wish you a safe journey."

There was a long pause. A cool breeze brushed against the wispy grass, forming a drifting ripple. Marian sighed. "There is another reason," she said slowly, "that I have decided to leave."

"What's that?"

"I am frightened."

This caught his attention. "What are you frightened of? I would have thought you'd gotten long used to the line of work this family does."

"It isn't that."

"Is it Richard then? His goons have been wandering the house more and more often lately. He is pining for power. But it won't be that easy. No need to fear him. He's merely a pup. His bark is worse than his bite."

"I have no fear of that runt." She turned her gaze to the sunset. "It's you, Walter."

He said nothing.

"Maybe I've gone crazy in my old age. Or perhaps I've gone senile. But sometimes, when you think no one is watching, there's a glimmer in your eye that frightens me. The way you look at people, Walter… it's so dark. It's as if you look at someone and imagine their death, and somehow that makes you happy. It reminds me of her."

He didn't need to ask who she was referring to.

"I have to give her credit." The evening, like his mood, was darkening. "Whatever power she had over you, it's strong. All these years, it's like you carry a piece of her with you. I don't know how she's enchanted you, but I can't watch it anymore, because I feel like I can't save you. I just hope that someday you'll walk out of that shadow and save yourself."

Walter picked up his teacup and took a long sip.

"Have a safe trip, Marian," he said.


	15. Chapter 15

CH 15

Integra took the news of Marian's departure calmly. She helped Marian pack her things, and smiled at the small send-off Arthur threw a day before the maid's final departure. Then she kissed and hugged Marian before she was driven off to the train station. She stayed at the window for several minutes, waiting until the car had disappeared in the distance, before going to her room and closing the door.

Half an hour later, it began.

First they were clatters, then the crashes. Walter, who was dusting in the drawing room directly beneath, could hear every sound and make out every movement. He heard her feet thudding from one end of the room to the other, heard her sound of objects banging against the walls and floor.

You're making a ruckus.

He set down the rag in his hand, exited the drawing room, and waved aside a maid who was making her way upstairs to see what's wrong.

"I'll handle this," he told her.

Did you know I sleep right downstairs?

Something crashed against the door and shattered against the other side when he approached Integra's room. Carefully, he nudged open the door. A clear object came flying at his head. Without thinking, he reached out and caught it.

Teary red eyes looked at him in surprise as if he had appeared out of nowhere. Her arm was frozen in midair, like a baseball player stopped in the middle of a pitch. Looking down, he saw that the object in his hand was a small glass mouse, part of set of six Marian had acquired for Integra on her fifth birthday. The remains of one of its mates lay at his feet. He lifted his gaze to Integra.

"Put it down," he said conversationally and closed the door behind her.

Her hand lowered hesitantly.

"Did you know there are people right downstairs, Integra?" he asked. "Everyone was working and trying to get on with life. There's a lot to do now that Marian's gone. How do you expect us to get work done with you up here making all that noise?"

She burst into tears. It was all too familiar. He put the mouse down on the nearest nightstand and went to her. She didn't protest when he led her to the bed, sat her down, and wiped her eyes with a handkerchief.

He thought about the way Alucard had sat him on her lap on that fateful first day of their meeting. Integra was a bit too big for that now, so he sat next to her and let her cry on his shoulder. It was the second to last time he would ever see her cry. The last would be at her father's deathbed.

"Why did she leave?" she asked between sobs. It was a rhetorical question. She knew very well why Marian left. Walter understood why she has asked – she was hoping he could tell her something different. Still, there was no easy way to explain to a motherless child that the closest person she had to a mother had left so she wouldn't have to see her grow old and weak.

He patted her shoulder. "You're a big girl, Integra. You don't need a nursemaid around anymore. Marian knew that. You've been able to stand on your own two feet for a long time now."

She hiccupped. He handed the handkerchief to her and she blew her nose softly. "I know that," she replied, a bit calmer now. "I know I don't need her. But I really wanted her to be here. She didn't have to take care of me. I would have taken care of her. She didn't need to leave." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "I really loved her."

"Yea," he said slowly. "I loved her, too."

He wasn't quite certain whom his own words were referring to.

"I feel… abandoned," Integra said.

He squeezed her shoulder. "I'm still here."

She turned watery blue eyes to him. "You won't leave, Walter?"

"I won't."

She held out her right hand, pinky extended. "Promise me," she said. "Promise that you won't leave me. You can't break a pinky promise."

Walter smiled as he hooked his finger into hers. She smiled, too. She had a bright smile that day, like clouds parting after a storm. Perhaps it was that smile that made him realize that he really meant what he did – he intended to keep that promise, in one way or another. The connection between them was too surreal, too strange, and too strong.

He couldn't abandon another who was too much like himself.

Could he?

oOo

A week before Christmas, Arthur was ordered to bed. Behind closed doors, the doctor pulled Walter close and in no uncertain terms told him that his master's days were numbered. He ought to begin making arrangements, the doctor said wearily, notify the next of kin if there are any, and find some suitable arrangements for his daughter, so young and small.

Just across the hall, Integra sat by her father's bedside, keeping a strong smile on her face as he stroked her hair and told her to be brave, and not to worry, that her uncle will take care of her and see her to her directorship.

Walter already knew that Richard was listening to this with a serene, wide grin of triumph. Perhaps he was putting his cold, clammy hands on Integra's shoulder, telling her not to worry as he squeezed them just a bit too tightly. She was been entrusted to him, and time was running out.

The members of the Round Table came by regularly. Some simply to pay respects, some to take the chance to gander at both Richard and Integra, sizing them up. A few spoke to Walter, hoping to obtain that silver of information that could possibly lead to them using this rare chance in taking over Hellsing. Walter kept his lips sealed and his smiles polite. He despised most of them.

The exception was Islands. Being one of the oldest members of the convention and having worked closely with Arthur for many years, Islands conducted himself very differently from the others. He spoke to Arthur in a hushed voice and not once looked over to Richard or Integra. No one ever found out what transpired between the two, and Walter knew this displeased Richard greatly. It was not uncommon knowledge that Islands disapproved of Richard, but his opinion of the girl was largely undefined.

Two days before the new year rang in, Islands paid another visit to the mansion. But instead of heading for Arthur's room, he handed his coat to a maid and gestured for Walter to follow him to the drawing room, where he closed the door tightly behind them.

"I need to speak to you about a matter most urgent," he said to the butler. "I must know that I have your undivided attention and that you will not let this slip by. The future of Hellsing rests on it."

Walter simply nodded. If nothing else, Islands had peaked his curiosity.

"I want you to protect Integra."

"I believe that is already my duty, sir. I have sworn my life to protect the Hellsing family from the dangers of the world."

Islands shook his head. "Not just from the dangers of the world, but from the dangers in this house. You are neither dumb nor blind, Walter. You must know the real dangers facing that girl. Do you really need me to spell it out?"

He hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. Islands walked to the nearest couch and sat down heavily.

"I do not disapprove of Integra," he said with a sad shake of his head. "No matter how it looks. I do not disapprove of her. I do not approve of her entirely either, but only because she has yet to prove herself. However, I do believe that, given time and the right opportunity, she could grow into the shoes she must soon wear. But if he – that runt who calls himself a Hellsing – were to stay around, she would never be given that chance. And as far as I'm concerned, Richard is already on the path to forever tainting a noble name. Between the two of them, I must side with her."

This was a side of Islands Walter had never seen before. There was darkness in the old man's eyes, the eyes of a man who blew smoke in death's face.

"Are you really suggesting, sir, that I…"

"Let's cut the crap," Islands interrupted. "We both know what you used to do, and we both know that the gossip of you losing your skills with time is false. If nothing else, those days you spent with that vampire had hardened you in a way no human can be. I know I have no direct authority over you, so consider this a favor that I ask of you – take care of her and, if necessary, take care of him."

With that, he stood and, one labored step at a time, walked out of the drawing room. Walter stayed behind for a long moment after he left and thought of his words. There was something that caught his attention in Island's little speech.

Proving herself.

That was what he had been waiting for himself. From the day Integra entered this house, he had known that, if the Hellsing organization stood long enough, she would be the one to head it. But she wasn't ready. She wasn't ready because she had not yet proven herself. Not to the Convention, not to the organization, not to herself.

And not to him. He wanted to see her prove herself. He wanted to see if she was worthy of his servitude, if she was really worthy of the title of director. Was Arthur ever worthy? He had never considered it before, having taken for granted the man's presence in his life. But now that he thought about it, perhaps he would not have strayed from Hellsing in the first place had he thought Arthur more worthy of him. Or of her, that beautiful cursed vampire.

That opportunity Islands spoke of may come sooner rather than later.


	16. Chapter 16

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this may seem like a flimsy section considering the significant events that take place, but let's not forget that this is from WALTER's point of view.

CH 16

1989

Arthur passed away in late spring, on a warm morning holding Integra's hand. On his death bed he looked at his daughter, the person he loved more than anyone and anything in the world, and spoke of how much she reminded him of her mother. He told the girl her mother was beautiful, intelligent and a hard woman who did not let life knock her down.

"Be brave, my child," he told her as she wept. "Be brave and don't even fear anything. Nothing in this world can knock you down either, because you have her spirit."

More than once he turned his eyes to his brother. In a gentle voice he pleaded that he take care of his niece and help her in the difficulties sure to face her in directorship. They were family, he said, the only family, the last Hellsings, though every person present knew more than well that, after his death, there would only be one true Hellsing left.

"I will take good care of her, brother," Richard said. The corner of lip was twitching, as if he was trying to stifle a laugh eager to explode.

Walter said very little as Arthur's time ticked away. When his master asked that he take care of his daughter, he merely bowed, and that was all Arthur needed. So many years had passed. Times had changed. A new era was about to be ushered in. As the time drew near, he exited the room and waited in the hall. Though he had betrayed the man years ago, he still felt a certain fondness to him. Arthur was the closest thing he had to a father figure, and to see him fade away disturbed Walter ever so slightly. Instead of watching it happen, he merely waited.

A few minutes later, Richard joined him. They stood in the hall side by side, leaning casually against the wall.

"Seems the time has finally come," said Richard, lighting a cheap cigarette. "Our dream is about to come true. Hellsing is about to change." He smiled at Walter patronizingly. "Not to worry, old friend. There will still be a steady position for you here. I wouldn't get rid of the person who knows most about this house."

"That's good to hear, sir," Walter replied blankly.

"There is one more obstacle in the way, however." Richard took a long drag and blew a sloppy smoke ring. "But it will be taken care of soon. Could you… stomach it?"

He knew where what the man was implying. In truth, he had no idea if he could stomach being the one who ended Integra's life. But he didn't particularly want to. There were bigger things at hand, and she was not the one who needed to be removed.

"I'm afraid I cannot," he said modestly. "Be as it may that I disagreed with Sir Hellsing's methods, I cannot bring myself to do such a thing to his only child. And speaking out of obligation, I must report your actions to the authorities if I were to, say, witness it."

Richard shrugged. The bait was taken. "Very well, then. If you do not wish to see the course of events upcoming, then I suggest you make yourself scarce for a few days. Three or four ought to do it. I will arrange to send you on an errand. If you have any lingering feelings for the brat, I suggest you make use of the time you have now."

Walter said only two words to this. The next few days would be a critical defining moment. The challenge has been set, the obstacles lain, and girl was about to determine whether her role in life was heroine or victim.

"Very well."

In many ways, it was perfect. The stakes were extremely high, but that was what sealed the perfection of it all.

He returned to Arthur's bedroom not long after. Integra was crying, her head buried in her father's sheets. Walter went to her and held her as she wept quietly. She barely made a sound as her shoulders shuddered gently. Richard was standing by the door, watching with a sneer as a sheet was pulled over his brother's head. The game that was about to be played was highly unbalanced, but Walter intended to level the playground. Though he wished for Integra to prove herself, he didn't want the sleazy Richard to have the upper hand from the start.

"Remember your father," he whispered in Integra's ear. "Remember everything he's told you."

oOo

There was a day in the history of Hellsing. It was a special, important day. Should Hellsing ever enter the history books in all its glory, that day would be marked as the turning of tides. The day the first female director of Hellsing took her rightful position. The day that saw a bloody end to a tyrant thirsty for power and the rebirth of a cursed creature, the king of its kind.

Integra would never forget that day.

But Walter was not present to see it play out. Instead, he was two hundred miles away, sitting in a dark pub. There was a soccer game playing on the black-and-white television in a corner and the bar tender had brought him a glass of cold ale. He drank, smoked, and watched the game without really seeing it. No one disturbed him. There seemed to be no reason to bother an old English gentleman whiling away a slow afternoon.

He had very much to think about. All the time that had passed, all the things that had happened, and the paths that lay before him. He would return to the mansion tomorrow, early in the morning. He would wash up at the inn at dawn, fresh-faced and ready in spirit, to face whatever greeted him.

Should Richard win, which he very well could, Walter already knew exactly what he would do. And Richard will most likely win. After all, what chance did that little girl have against her uncle, his men, and their pistols? She may fight. She may run. She may struggle when they caught her. If she fought too hard they may hit her, hurt her for the pleasure of it. But in the end she would die, and Richard would finally get his rise to power. In that case, Walter had already decided, he would slaughter the man and his followers within five minutes of his return, then place a call to the number on the white card in his pocket while their bodies cooled at his feet. There was no sense in delaying it. Even though he had betrayed Hellsing, he still did not wish to see its name passed down to a man like that.

But what if the underdog came out on top?

He contemplated this slowly, unhurriedly. Her chance of survival was less than five percent, even if she had really remembered the one thing that could save her, she may not get to it on time. If she did, she may not know what to do.

But what if she did? What if things happened to line up right? What if, through some dark magic he couldn't understand, she guided the girl to her doorstep?

He could still remember her well. Those dark locks, those red eyes, that crooked smirk. If she came back, what would he do? If Integra was really worthy enough to be her master, and the house's, who would he follow?

The answer was difficult, but true. He knew who he would follow. If Integra proves herself worthy of the promise he made to her, he would follow her. Though he had never anticipated it, he cared for the girl greatly. But even more than that, he respected her. Against the Millennium, the insane Major, she had a chance far greater than Richard, perhaps even greater than her father. Should the vampire follow her.

And if he was to side with her, he must stay true to Hellsing, if only to see to it that the vampire followed her.

In the end, he only wanted to win. He wanted to stand on the winning side so she would stop overlooking him, so she would see him as a man and not a toy.

At last.

oOo

He woke up.

Why was he not in the inn? It only took a few seconds for him to come to his senses. He had forgotten how her illusions felt. The soft, light nothingness. It was so familiar, even after so long. He had not spoken to her since Integra's arrival in the house.

"Sleeping well, Angel of Death?"

She was standing in a veil of haze. He could barely make out her form. "I should be asking you that," he said. "How many years has it been?"

"I lost count." Her voice was slightly different. "But it has ended. I am very glad. This long sleep has toughened my limbs. Still, it was nice of the new director to provide me with a meal upon my awakening."

He waited for her to explain, but she didn't.

"I have a question for you, Walter." It had been so long since she last spoke his name. "I hope you will answer me honestly. I do not like to be lied to."

The edge in her voice was undeniable. Walter swallowed thickly and adjusted his glasses. He had to tread carefully. "What do you imagine I would lie to you about?"

"I hope nothing." Her form was trembling, its edges rippling in the fog. "And for old times sake, I will try to believe you, whatever you choose to tell me." She paced, like an interrogator sizing up a criminal. "Where have you been?"

"Away," he answered simply.

"Knowing that the master, our master, is dying while his daughter is to be left in the hands of a treacherous man?"

"I have my reasons."

"I would love to hear them. It would displease me that the loyal butler would leave the new master to certain death. Another minute later and there would have been a bullet through her pretty little head. For her to have awakened me was sheer luck."

The match was over. The winner had been decided. Walter chuckled. "Was it?"

Momentary silence. He always did love catching her off guard. "For a servant, you certainly have little faith in your master. I did not leave her to die. Rather, I gave her an opportunity. Instead of lifting her onto her throne, I let her climb up on her own." He turned away from her. She hated to be ignored. The more he looked away from her, he knew, the closer she listened. "Would you still respect her the same way, Alucard, if you had awakened to her hiding behind me, watching you with a timid eye? It is better that she managed to find you herself, and though she may not look it, I'm sure she relished deep down the sight of you tearing her uncle apart."

"Actually," she said with a hint of amusement, "I left him for her to finish off."

It was Walter's turn to be surprised. "How did she do?"

"Splendidly." Her tone suddenly softened. "She held a gun to him all on her own. It was a sight to behold." She moved a bit closer to him. "What might you have done if she had lost?"

"She wouldn't have. It wasn't possible."

"You're very confident."

"And she proved me right, didn't she?"

She walked around him, making a slow circle. He didn't turn to watch her move. Finally, she faced him again, and he still couldn't make out her features. "You look good."

"Thank you."

"Age looks lovely on you, butler," she purred. "I must say, I have never seen you look so well. The brashness of youth did not agree with you. There was a time when I thought you would never outgrow that phase, but it seems you did, and did it well to boot. I've misjudged you, butler."

Walter only smiled.

"There is much to tell once you return. I will let her tell you. She is resting right now. It seems she is still weary of me, but that will change with time. If you place such high trust in her, then I shall do the same." Her form began to fade. "Be warned," she added, "you are not the only one wearing a different face since we last met in person."


	17. Chapter 17

CH 17

Integra was sitting on bottom step of the main stairs when he entered the front door. There was a figure not far away across the hall, leaning against the wall. Neither of them spoke as Walter set his coat aside. Integra looked up. She was pale, but her eyes shone when they landed on him.

"Walter!" she said softly, and stood. She looked at him for a long time, as if unsure what to do. Then she began to move toward him, slowly at first, then fast, until she fell into his arms. He embraced her tightly. The figure against the wall turned to them, but didn't move to join them.

"Walter," she gasped. "Uncle Richard, he…"

He knelt down and brushed strands of stray hair out of her face. "It's alright," he said. "I know."

She gaped in surprise. "You do?"

"Did I not tell you I was already acquainted with the butler?"

The voice was different, but Walter could still recognize it anywhere. That sly tone. That hint of dark humor. He looked past Integra's shoulder.

The vampire was in a new form now. A man's. He looked no more than thirty, tall and slim. His hair was long and silvery gray, and he was still wearing the same leather bounds that held him down in the dungeons so many years ago. Though he had never seen this form before, Walter knew that face. It was one he'd seen in history books, in paintings and pictures. The face the vampire originally wore, when he was human. It hadn't seemed real until now, the vampire's story.

It was her.

And it was him.

Dracula. Alucard.

"Is it true?" He turned to Integra's inquiring eyes. "Do you really know him?"

Walter nodded. "Long ago. I think we have a lot of catching up to do. Where is everyone else?"

"Uncle Richard sent them away. Just like he sent you away."

He gave her a warm hug. "I'm sorry left," he said. "I shouldn't have left you in his hands."

"It's alright," she said matter-of-factly. Something was different, Walter marveled. Something had disappeared from her eyes. She was different from what she was a few days ago. It was as if she had aged ten years overnight. The spark of innocence was gone. Amazing what the sight of death can do.

"I'm the director now, Walter."

She probably didn't feel as confident as she sounded, but those words sounded good coming out of her mouth. Walter smiled. "Indeed you are."

"There's so much to do," she said half to herself. "I need to go clean up. And then, we can figure it out together."

With that, she turned way from him and walked down the hall. A step past the vampire, she paused.

"Alucard," she said. For a moment it was as if Arthur had returned from the dead.

Pushing himself off the wall, the vampire bowed. "Yes, master?"

"Wait for me with Walter. I need to speak with you, too."

"As you wish."

"And Walter?"

"Yes, m'lady."

"Please find him some suitable clothing."

With that, she was gone. Behind her, silence fell. Her presence left a hold in the room, something she had not been able to do before. It was as if the entire room was on hold for a command from her. Walter rose to his feet and met Alucard's eyes.

"I see you've chosen a new form for your new master. Might I ask why?"

The vampire shrugged. It was going to take some time to get used to Alucard's new form, Walter mused. But despite his looks, the vampire's mannerism were the same. He still smirked the same way when he talked, and he still tilted his head slightly when he was thinking. "Does it bother you? I told you long ago, it doesn't matter what I look like. I am me and that will never change. Although it was quite a bit of effort to shift into this form before greeting her."

"You managed to change your form after starvation?"

"It was hard, but doable. I thought I ought to take on a form more… suitable of her. She's the princess of Hellsing, is she not?"

"And you thought it would be fitting to guard her as a prince?"

Alucard snickered. "Is it not perfect for this little play? The fallen prince who serves the new princess."

"This is not a play. Her life has just been changed. Have you no respect for what she has gone through?"

"Of course I do. She is marvelous in everyway, just as I expected she would be. I can see Arthur in her. I must say, you have done well in bringing her to this step. I think she could carry on the legacy beautifully." A pause. "How have you fared, butler? I hope you have grown wise with time."

"I have. I hope you are enjoying the fresh air after all these years."

"I do." Red eyes searched him up and down. It was all so familiar. Walter felt the old sense of longing, that yearn to be looked like, to be noticed by those eyes. "It's good to see you, Walter. You have never looked more beautiful than you do in that aged body. I'm glad mortality has treated you well. Now, more than before, I think you are a fitting servant for my master."

The new master.

"I think we ought to wait for Miss Integra in the drawing room," said Walter. "After you."

As the two walked side by side, just like old times, Walter found himself musing at the situation. Things have changed. At last. This time, he was not going to be a toy. He will no longer be the foolish boy who followed the whim of others. No longer the one who was tossed to the cyclone of fate. This time, he chose his path.

Alucard would soon understand where he stood. Soon the vampire would know that the butler was his equal and nothing less. Times are different now.

You are right about one thing, he thought as he stole a glance at the vampire, it doesn't matter what you look like.

oOo

With a solemn face and steady voice, Integra spoke to both of them. Though she tried to hide it, Walter could see her shaking fists. When she spoke, a quiver escaped every now and then, but she managed to suppress it well enough. For a child who had just lost her father, she was doing very well.

Most of the time she chose to meet Walter's eyes instead of Alucard's, although the vampire was making a great show of giving her his undivided attention. Walter wasn't quite sure what the vampire was doing, perhaps a test to see if he could unnerve the new master. He remembered the vampire's gaze quite well. It was cold, chilling, and strangely enchanting. Though Integra was holding her own before the vampire's ruby eyes, she still couldn't quite bear to meet his gaze for more than a few seconds.

She talked about her resolve to continue her father's legacy, then asked Walter on his opinion of how to explain Richard's absence to the Convention. Half the time she was speaking so softly she might as well have been talking to herself. Walter listened without a word. She was trying to convince herself that she could do this, that it won't be so hard. She looked pale and tired, but the resolve never left her eyes.

"I promised my father to carry on," she kept saying. "I promised."

After everything that needed to be said was said, Integra sat down on the armchair facing the two men. For a long time she said nothing, did nothing, just stared down at her hands, as if in disbelief of what they were about to do. They were such small hands for lifting a burden as heavy as the one that had fallen onto her shoulders.

"Walter," she said after a few moments.

"Yes, m'lady."

"What do I need to do about…" She tossed a dubious glance at Alucard. True to her father's teachings, she was still having some difficulty treating a vampire as her peer. Judging by her nervous fidgeting fingers, Walter guessed she was trying to ask how to go about feeding her new-found pet.

Alucard grinned. Integra didn't shirk at the sight of his fangs, perhaps because she had already seen them at work. "My previous master, your father, used to feed me his own blood. He keeps a knife in his desk and…"

Integra looked up. "Don't," she said, "lie to me."

The finality in her words sent a shiver down Walter's spine. He looked over at Alucard, who had wisely closed his mouth. But that grin remained. It was the vampire's endless tests, he realized. Alucard would not rest until he was completely satisfied of his master's competence. He always did love to play games.

"There is much to discuss on that matter," he said to Integra. "But I can assure you that Alucard is of no harm to your person or the organization. In fact, he is just as loyal to Hellsing as myself, if not more."

Integra seemed to relax visibly. She stood and Walter noticed her fists weren't clenched as tightly anymore. "I'm going to rest now," she said, "there's a lot to do tomorrow. And" – she lifted her gaze to Alucard – "I don't trust you. Thanks for saving my life, but I can't trust you just yet. But since Walter is vouching for you, I will try my best."

Alucard stood and bowed to her as she exited the room. Once she was out of sight, he chuckled. Walter stood also.

"What's so amusing?"

"Her." Alucard brushed his silvery locks out of his face. "A small girl with enormous shoes to fill. She's much too serious. At this rate, she'll die before she hits thirty."

"Do you propose she pour whiskey down her throat in litters like Arthur did?"

"From the looks of her, a drink now and then would loosen her up. Or perhaps she'll find some other vice of her own to loosen those shoulders up. Honestly, the girl looks like she's due to snap at any moment."

"She just lost her father."

"It's a good lesson in the value of human life. I think," Alucard said with an almost devious smirk, "it's time I made myself more presentable for the new master."

Walter nodded. "I shall leave you to it then. I have some small matters of my own to attend to."

At first he worried that Alucard would inquire to these "matters", but the vampire seemed too preoccupied at the moment. Walter left the mansion and took a slow stroll in the streets just outside. All he had to do, he knew, was wait. He walked several blocks and made a turn down a secluded alley, where a small figure awaited.

"Good evening, warrant officer."

The boy scratched his ear. He was wearing an oversized sweater over his usual uniform, perhaps to hide the swastika on his arm. "Hey," he said. "There's too many mosquitoes here."

Since their first meeting over forty years ago, Schrodinger hadn't changed one bit. As Walter counted the lines on his face and the grays in his hair, the boy remained cheery and bubbly, his head of blond hair never fading from age and his voice never quite hit puberty. And his smile. He was always smiling.

"So," the boy said, pausing to be temporarily distracted by a dust particle, "what news do you have, calling me all the way out here?"

"Nothing."

Schrodinger's smile didn't waver, but Walter thought he saw the boy's fangs glisten for a split second. "Nothing?"

"The news is that from here on out, there will be nothing to report from me."

Schrodinger scratched his ear again. He looked like a confused kitten. "Well, that wouldn't be good," he said, "the Major will be upset. Doc's gonna be mad at me, and…"

"Let's spare the small talk." The tightness in his chest was the same as it was all those years ago in that phone booth. Excitement. Anticipation, slight weariness. He felt no fear back then, and he felt no fear now. And, just like back then, once the wheels began to turn, there was no turning back. "I want out."

Schrodinger tilted his head comically. "Out? Seriously?"

"Yes." He had made another promise. Times have changed. His loyalty lied with a new master.

"That's really funny, butler. You shouldn't joke like that."

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

Schrodinger sighed in exasperation. He chewed on his lip. "Aw bugger," he said, snapping his fingers. "Now what I am supposed to tell those guys back home?"

"Whatever the hell you want."

"You sure I can't change your mind?"

"Do you think you can?"

Schrodinger grinned widely. "Always the stubborn one. You know you're messing with the wrong people, don't you?"

"Is there such a thing as messing with the right people?"

Schrodinger crossed his arms. For a long time he appeared to be lost in thought, although his eyes were still following the wafting particles of dust. "OK," he said after a while.

"OK?"

"OK, you want out, you're out. But heed my warning, butler." He took a step toward Walter, then another, until his face was inches from the butler's chest, looking up into his eyes. He was still smiling. "Nobody crosses Millennium. It's just a fact. And for letting you off the hook now, you're going to pay a price later."

Walter smirked. "You think I'm afraid of you?"

"Not me." Schrodinger rubbed his nose. "You have nothing to fear from me. The big boys will make you pay that price. And what a hefty price it's going to be."


	18. Chapter 18

AUTHOR'S NOTE: sorry, haven't been updating with all the Hurricane Ike craziness.

CH 18

1991

The bet on Integra proved to be solid. It didn't take very long for Walter to see it. Deep down, it pleased him greatly, though he would never let it show. The years he'd spent as a spy and double agent had trained him well as a silent observer. From the shadows, at her side, he played his role, the same way he played it for her father. He watched her.

The last years approaching the end of the millennium were peaceful, quite fortunate for the young director growing into her big shoes.

For the first several months of her directorship, she trembled. It wasn't quite visible to the naked eye, but Walter could see it out of the corner of his eye. When she addressed the convention, when she picked up a pen to sign one of the many pieces of papers placed in front of her, when she issued an order, her hand would shake. Too often he watched her grip the edge of a table to steady herself. Too often she had to clear her throat to drive away that fearful quiver. It was a subconscious reaction, the expectation that someone will appear to tell her she's doing everything wrong.

He waited for her to get over it, and she did, just like he knew she would. During her ninth Convention meeting, Islands quite matter-of-factly stated that Hellsing ought to be merged with one of the other research branches and leave militia work to the military. Integra paused, then cleared her throat. Walter felt his insides tense up in excitement as he stood behind her.

"No," she said. Then, realizing that the answer was perhaps too rude, she added, "that will be quite impossible. Hellsing did not survive the last century to be reduced to a research facility."

There was a momentary silence around the table. A cold brilliance emitted from her as she straightened her back and waited for someone to challenge her. When no one did, she did not return to her previously timid and slouched posture. Emotions played in Island's eyes. Walter saw both pride and weariness. Pride that the little girl had finally begun to step up to her father's post, and weariness that she might too quickly become the threat to the rest of them.

The deprivation of her childhood built a hard edge into her personality. Not too long before her fifteenth birthday he came upon her sitting alone in the garden, smoking one of Arthur's cigars. Her graceful inhales indicated that it was not her first time. Sloppy tendrils of smoke reflected in her blue eyes. Realizing she was been watched, she did not hurry to put it out. Instead, she motioned for him to come closer.

"I have another one," she said. "Do you want one, Walter?"

He kept her company, but did not take the cigar. When she finished the first one, he lit the second one for her. It was the first time he held a lighter for her, and it wouldn't be the last. "When did you start smoking?"

She shrugged and took a deep drag. "Last month," she replied coolly. "It's more efficient than crying." Then, a light chuckle. "I wish I had this stuff when Marian left."

She grew taller. She grew stronger. She developed a strange sort of mean streak in her that became quite handy when it came to commanding the unruly troops. The first time they disobeyed her, she pursed her lips and kept her tears back. The second time, she ignored it. The third time, when a young man made a rather vulgar comment regarding women in power, she motioned for him to come forward.

"Since you love to wag your tongue so much," she said, "let's put it to good use."

No one knew for sure the events that followed, but the young man had a speech impediment for several weeks due to a layer of blisters on his tongue and the barracks looked strangely clean.

The awkwardness of puberty was replaced with the cold tension that usually accompanied authority. She passed Saturday nights on the shooting range. With each day that passed, Walter felt a bit more proud, a bit more smug, at the thought of the empire she was destined to build, and his own part in it.

He picked up her education where her father had left off. He educated her with a relentless and almost brutal pace. There was too much at stake, more than she knew, and he had to make sure she was prepared when the inevitable war came to fruition. He taught her how to read the enemy, how to defend herself, how to stay focused in the face of blood and death, and how to kill without a single weapon. She wouldn't put these skills to test for many years, but the day would come. He knew it would.

Not once did she question his methods. Not once did she back down from a challenge. With each passing day, with every shower of doubting words, with every scrape on her skin, her eyes grew harder. When the going got too tough, when he pushed her too hard, she merely glared back, daring him to pusher her even harder.

Walter was proud.

Only one thing bothered him, and it was the same thing that's bothered him for most of his life. Though in a different shape, wearing a new outfit, and following a new master, the vampire was the same. Even in a different gender, Alucard was the same. Aside from his appearance, the years in the dungeon hadn't changed him a bit. His derisive laughter still echoed in the halls, and he still spoke as if the entirety of humanity was nothing but a pebble under his boot. He still ran his fingers through his black hair when he was lost in thought, and he was still able to make someone question their existence with one nonchalant question.

Walter had worried, initially, that the time of peace would bring about his depression again. He didn't wish to live through that once more, that desolate look on the vampire's face when he was faced with nothing to occupy his endless time. It wasn't an issue at the beginning. Alucard seemed to amuse himself with the new master. He hovered around her and taunted her, teased her, drove her to anger and frustration. Her very presence seemed to excite him. But such a thing couldn't last. He couldn't play with her forever. She was, after all, his master.

As she grew up, he also calmed. And it was then that Walter began to notice the difference in him.

oOo

One of the obligations of being an elite was to make appearances. As far as Walter could tell, Arthur inwardly despised frivolous social gatherings, despite how well he worked a room when an occasion called for it. In his own words, though put in much more crass terms, high society women were much too hard to woo into bed, and they always expected expensive gifts afterwards.

For her first year or so as director, Integra was more or less shunned by her peers. It was no secret that her father was a loose man with a bastard daughter, and illegitimate children didn't fly well in social circles. Her position of power didn't help. Being despised and feared at the same time soon became one of the many reasons for her thorny personality.

The only invitation she received for two years was to the Queen's annual royal ball, and each year she declined. Walter knew Integra held the highest respect for the queen, but to endure the scrutinizing eyes of the rest of England's high society was simply too much to bear. So it was no surprise that when he brought her the third invitation in the library, she barely lifted her head from the book in her hand.

"Please thank the queen for her kindness," she said without a glance at the invitation.

Walter nodded. "Of course, m'lady. I assume you don't intend to attend."

Whereas her father would have made some vulgar comment involving painted women and metal underwear, Integra merely said, "I can find better use for my time." It was the response he expected. Her nonexistent sense of humor, Walter supposed, stemmed from her mother. Personally, he liked preferred it to Arthur's crude mannerisms. With that, he bowed and turned to leave her to her work.

There were others, however, who lacked such tact. As he brushed by the shelves near the library door, Walter paused. A familiar chill ran down his spine and he looked down to see that the invitation in his hand had disappeared.

"I suggest you not bother her," he said to the figure clad in red forming slowly from the shadows.

"Bother her?" Alucard opened the invitation. Though he was sporting those unfashionable red glasses, Walter could still see the curious eyes behind them. He did, after all, spend many restless nights in his youth thinking about them. "You wound me, butler. I think you're neglecting an important aspect of her education. Our master seems to lack significant people skills."

"People skills?" Walter chortled. "This from you? I thought you would find her misanthropy a likeable characteristic."

"I do." Before Walter could say another word, the vampire was gone in a ripple of smoke and shadow. Turning, Walter saw his form reappearing at the far end of the library, dangerously close to where Integra stood.

Integra didn't look up. Her chilly nonchalance around the vampire was yet another trait Walter liked about her. Her father cooed at and chided Alucard as if he was a doll – granted, his appearance at the time had contributed it. Integra, in her own way, had cast a distance between herself and the vampire, the proper distance of master and servant. It wasn't until Alucard dropped the invitation on her book did she lift her head to acknowledge him.

"Did you want something?" she asked. The invitation slid through the pages and dropped onto the floor. She ignored it.

"I was merely wondering why my master is turning down the perfect chance to spread her wings."

"If you're referring to the royal ball," she said pointedly, closing her book with a crisp "snap", "I'm not going."

"Even if the queen personally requests your presence?"

"The queen understands that I do not mesh well with the rest of…them."

"Them?" He leaned a bit closer to her. Though she barely reached his chest in height, she did not back away. "You speak of your peers with such distain. I would think this the perfect time to break out of your shell. All work and no play will send you to an early grave."

"What business is it of yours?" Integra turned to walk away from him, but he was immediately in front of her again.

"I merely find it odd that a young woman such as yourself would rather spend your days between dusty pages than dancing in the arms of England's finest young men."

"I don't dance," she spat.

"Everyone dances, even if they do not wish to admit it. You must attend the ball, master. I insist. It would only do you good to live out the fantasies of a young woman once in a while."

"I have no such fantasies." She straightened her glasses. "And I'm bored with this conversation. Unlike you, I have things to do, so if you will please move out of my way, I have to return to the office."

Alucard's lips curled mischievously, an all-to-familiar smile that gave Walter a shiver of déjà vu. The memory of the vampire's feminine days tugged at his mind and body like an invisible phantom. Integra just frowned.

"Move," she ordered icily.

"Gladly."

Then, in a smooth motion that surprised even Walter, he scooped her up in his arms. The shock on Integra's face matched Walter's as Alucard spun her in a circle. Smiling, he gazed up at her, arms wrapped around her skinny waist.

"See, master?" he purred. "Dancing is easier than it looks."

For a moment she said nothing. Stiffly, she gripped his shoulder, as if trying to make sense of what had happened. Her confusion only lasted a split second, however. Before Walter could step forward, she lifted her hand and struck Alucard across the face. It didn't erase his smile, however, as he watched her straighten her clothes after he set her down.

"I will only tell you this," she said, turning away from him. It might have been the air playing tricks, but Walter thought she sounded almost short of breath. "You do not ever manhandle me that way."

Alucard grinned slyly at her retreating backside. "You may come to regret that order one day, master."

She spun around, grabbed his ascot in one hand, pulled him down to her level, and slapped him. The sound echoed off the library's hollow walls. Then, without a word, she exited the library, taking fast, long steps. As she passed Walter, he saw her flushed face and pursed lips. She almost looked like she was blushing. Alucard appeared next to him.

"You've gone too far this time," he told the vampire.

To his surprise, Alucard nodded. "Yes, I suppose I have," he said with an unusual sense of remorse, "It seems that my skills at courting the fairer sex have become rusty with time."

And that feeling, that age-old boiling feeling at the bottom of Walter's heart bubbled with renewed ferocity.


	19. Chapter 19

CH 19

1994

Integra grew up beautiful, just like he knew she would.

For most of her blooming years, when young women should be taking the most advantage of their soft skin and smooth curves, Integra did everything she could to hide her beauty. With each passing day Walter saw more of her mother in her. Her hair was long, her eyes clear and hard, and her features were almost artistically pronounced. The more beautiful she became, the harder she seemed to try to fight against nature.

She opted out of contacts for glasses. She wore pantsuits cut like a man's. She wore her hair in an unceremonial mane down her back, kept to flat shoes, and began to bind her breasts shortly after her sixteenth birthday.

As she grew older, Walter found it harder and harder not to notice Alucard's unsubtle interest in her.

For several years he wondered why the vampire did not follow his old path to depression. In fact, he seemed better than ever. Back in the butler's youth, Alucard, drenched in the scent of war, had been constantly cheerful and outgoing. He seemed indestructible back then, as if nothing could break him down, until peace came. Now, somehow, he had overcome it. The obstacle that once bought him several decades of forced imprisonment now seemed to hold no power over him.

After the little incident in the library, he began to understand.

The girl, well on her path to womanhood, was keep him sane. He had no idea how she was doing it, how she could accomplish what he could not, but she was doing it. Just being near her seemed to calm Alucard. He was more polite near her. He spoke with a softer tone and almost seemed self-conscious when she walked by. The unruly girl vampire Walter once knew had become a gentleman.

What bothered him the most, however, was not Alucard's attention in his new master, but that she didn't even recognize her influence over him. After all, she had known him less than a decade. The time they had spent together was nothing compared the history he and Alucard shared.

He couldn't turn a blind eye anymore to Alucard's fawning. It wasn't the same as when he shared a bed with Arthur. Alucard had said so himself – Arthur was only a dog. Not once did he see the vampire spare an affectionate gaze for Arthur, and the nights they spent together seemed to hold less interest to Alucard than an hour spent on the battlefield.

Integra still smoked in the garden when she was tired. She often stood under the old oak with grim concentration in her eyes, as if trying to map the movement of the air itself. More than once Walter spotted Alucard gazing down at her from the hall window, and the look in his eyes sent a creeping ache through Walter's body.

It was all too familiar, and it was worse than ever. He never fooled himself into thinking that he was over Alucard, never expected that being under the same roof again would be easy, but this was too much. It seemed unfair somehow, that it would be her. Integra, Arthur's daughter, a girl ignorant of the vampire's attention, which she did not deserve in so many ways.

There was one thing he could take comfort thing, however, and it was one of the things that gave him faith in Integra – she remained completely unmoved at the vampire's advances. Every move he tried to make was spurned. Every flirtatious word was shot down with three frigid ones. Consumed by her work, she did not give Alucard a second glance when he passed her in the hall save to give an order or two.

She was a worthy master, and it was that thought, that fact, that got Walter through the days. The day when the vampire noticed his worth would come, and in the mean time, it gave him a small amount of satisfaction to see the vampire on the receiving end of those chilly rejections.

oOo

"You seem well."

Alucard lifted his gaze from the window. "Well?"

"You know what I mean."

Integra was in the garden. For her eighteen years of life, she looked much too old. Through the window, Walter could see her smoking one of her father's old cigars. There must have been quite a blowout at the Convention meeting today. She usually saved her father's cigars for such special occasions.

"You mean you do not yet see the need to bind, gag, and lock me up again." Perhaps seeing Walter's unease, Alucard brushed past the comment nonchalantly. "You are right, however. Things are different now."

Walter pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "You must realize that this infatuation you hold for her can never come to fruition."

The vampire smirked. It was a smug, irritating smirk, as if Walter's words were nothing but rubbish. It was the same smirk he used to give him when in his youth, when he said he didn't need his gloves. "Do you think so, butler?"

"There are too many reasons. She is your master, for one, and a human. She is still a child and already has enough on her plate without you making it complicated. And above all, she would never concede to it. I'd think you'd have learned that by now. Besides, and forgive me to saying this, but you are not exactly one skilled in love."

"I suppose you are referring to the old days."

"She is not like Arthur. I'm sure you understand that. Seems she inherited her mother's personality. Miss Wingates was a stony woman who would not succumb to casual pleasures of the flesh."

Alucard shrugged. "I know that. I could tell from day one that she would be a hard nut to crack."

"Why not seek pleasure where it is more easily obtained?"

"Let me answer you one thing at a time." Alucard wringed his fingers absently. "First, it makes no difference whether she is human or otherwise. She is unique. Second, she is far from a child, and I do not wish to complicate her life. In fact, I only want to simplify it, take some troubles off her mind. It has to be better than those awful cigars. Third, I am not seeking casual pleasures. If that was what I had in mind, I would've settled for one of the maids."

Walter couldn't tell if it was a subtle shot at him.

"And lastly, it's true that it has been a very long time since I've loved, but if I'm not mistaken, history is known to repeat itself." He turned back to the window. Integra had left her usual spot and was strolling back to the house, the summer sun casting a glaring halo around her mane. Walter thought he heard the vampire sigh.

"By god, that woman is beautiful."

oOo

The invitation to Marian's funeral arrived on Integra's desk one gray, dreary winter morning. When he set it in front of Integra, Walter thought he could see the usual cool authoritative mask melt from his young master's face. She sat there for a long moment before reaching for the invitation. Walter had already read it. It was from Marian's niece, and Marian had apparently died peacefully in her sleep after a hard and fast battle with pneumonia. He didn't even knew her had a niece, or a siblings. He never thought to ask.

"Walter," she said stiffly after a moment, the invitation still gripped in her hands. "Please RSVP to this event. I will be attending."

She spoke of it like it was afternoon tea, but Walter heard the heaviness in her voice. Despite the fact that he had known Marian much longer than Integra had, he knew Integra loved that plump, un-extraordinary woman more than he ever had. Her schedule did not allow a trip to the country, but she was going to attend anyway.

"Yes, m'lady."

"And I would like for you to join me. I know the two of you were close. I'm sure you'd want to pay your last respects." She sighed. "Please leave me alone for a moment."

Truthfully, he couldn't care less one way or the other about the funeral, but he nodded, took the invitation, and backed out of her office with a short bow. Leaving a crack at the door, he paused to peek back into the office. Integra had risen from her chair. She stood at the floor-length window, her back to the door, looking out into the colorless sky. He could see her hands on her arms, as if she was cold.

Then the familiar shadow solidified next to her. She didn't turn to Alucard, who stood almost too close to her as they spoke in a hushed voice. Walter could make out bits and pieces of their conversation.

"She was important to me," he heard Integra say. "I know you don't think much of life and death."

Alucard said something softly, and she nodded. Walter expected her to order the vampire to leave, just she had him, and leave her to grieve alone. He waited, and waited. Alucard stood there still, five minutes later, ten minutes later, just a few inches too close, barely outside of her personal space. Snow had begun to fall.

Then she sat down. After exchanging a few more words, she suddenly turned back to her desk and sat down. Alucard waited for her to settle, then approached her. Carefully, he lifted one of her hands, and kissed it.

"I can only speak for myself, master," he said, " but having known you makes one's life that much richer. I am certain she did not regret her life."

She smiled. It had been years since Walter saw Integra's smile. "A cheap condolence, but I will take it." A pause. "Thank you."

Alucard did not release her hand, and the disappointment on his face was obvious when she pulled it away, avoiding his fixated gaze. Walter closed the door behind him silently.


	20. Chapter 20

CH 20

1995

"Do you not worry that she may one day resent you for all the unwanted attention you lavish on her? One day you may push the envelope too far."

Alucard chuckled. "I don't think she would waste her resentment on something trivial."

"You consider those feelings to be trivial?"

"To her they are, and that, I suppose, is why I cannot stop chasing her. If she had merely given in, I would not be so intrigued by her. As it is, I can't stop wondering what it is that will finally thaw her icy heart. It's all very interesting."

"Are you certain that you're not doing this merely to fulfill some queer curiosity or for the fun of the chase?"

There was a subtle flicker in the vampire's eyes. "You wound me, butler. You still think that I am merely playing for fun."

"As I recall, playing with humans is your favorite pastime."

Alucard laughed, a muffled, almost derisive laugh. It took Walter a moment to realize that the vampire was not laughing at him. Alucard was laughing at himself. "Do you recall what I said to you the first time you brought her to the dungeon doors, Walter?"

How could he forget? "Yes, you said you could love her, if she would allow you to."

"As it turns out, whether she would allow me to doesn't matter. Just so you would cease to torture me with this little game of words – I love her. As a servant, I love her in a way I never loved Arthur. Like a pet loving its master I've waited patiently for her to become a woman so I may love her as a man."

"It's not that simple."

"I am aware of that."

"Just because you love her as a man does not mean she would return your love as a woman."

"I am aware of that, too." The vampire's expression was one of sad serenity. "I don't ever plan to confess such a ridiculous thing to her. There can be no good outcome. Still, for one who hasn't felt his heart beat in five hundred years, it feels good, almost refreshing, to care again."

Walter swallowed hard. He adjusted his glasses and took a deep breath. His temples were aching, as was the usual occurrence when he had such a conversation with the vampire. In his youth it had been easier to ignore, but at this age physical ailments were had become harder to ignore.

"Yes," he said slowly, skillfully controlling his tone. "I am glad you understand the situation at least. It is not worth the risk."

He had known, of course, that Integra was in the process of accepting the proposal from a young man who ran in the elite circles of England. It was a marriage of convenience, and for a blueblood born into money, he wasn't half bad. An unspoken deal had been made between her and the rest of the Convention. No matter her competence, they were weary of her running Hellsing alone and at such a young age. Candidates had been interviewed under various pretenses to serve a suitable husband and partner for her. As long as she married a competent man with proper education and background, they would never question her position as director.

It was a humiliating arrangement that yielded a long night of chain-smoking and cursing under her breath, but in the end Integra yielded. That was the length she was willing to go to in order to carry on her father's legacy. Thankfully, the members of the Convention were not complete fools, and the young man they selected even came with the queen's compliments. He was intelligent, polite, and seemed to have long ago accepted his own lot in life as an elite – everything for the convenience of the future.

It couldn't have worked out better had Walter planned everything himself. Integra was the ever-dutiful daughter of Arthur. To carry on Hellsing, she would kill, die, and yes, even marry. It was for her sense of duty that Walter had sided with her, and it was in her sense of duty that he trusted above all else.

When he had told Alucard that confessing to her wasn't worth the risk, he knew the vampire heard the words he did not say. He knew Alucard too well, both then and now. To say it was not worth the risk was to challenge him. Now those words will gnaw at the vampire, make him wonder whether he could prove them wrong. And when he finally, inevitably, goes to Integra, she would set him in his place once and for all.

Walter smirked at the thought. You are nothing but a servant, just like me.

And how he looked forward to seeing the vampire's ego and dead heart crushed, just like his were so many years ago.

oOo

"How dare you?!"

Walter's hand froze on the doorknob. He had been standing outside Integra's office for nearly fifteen minutes as the commotion inside went on. The momentary silence had led her to believe that the confrontation had reached an end, but apparently that was not the case. And so he waited a little longer.

From what he could tell, Alucard had indeed done what he had predicted. The vampire had boldly gone and questioned his master about her marriage arrangement. This had sparked a loud and heated discussion that escalated much faster than even Walter had predicted. He couldn't help but allow a smile to creep to his lips.

Their voices dropped. Walter couldn't make out all the words, but he thought he heard questions and rapid answers. Integra was growing tired and impatient.

"No," he heard her say very clearly. The vampire was professing his feelings.

"No," she said again. Walter let his smile broaden a bit.

Alucard asked another question.

"I don't!" Integra snapped. The authority in her voice sent chills down Walter's spine. Silence fell again, this time a bit longer. Walter waited. The remainder of the words were muffled. Then, there was a crash. Something delicate had been shattered, perhaps against the wall or the floor, or the vampire's thick skull.

Then, nothing. Walter stayed his ground for a few more minutes. He reached for the doorknob, then changed his mind.

It was better to leave Integra alone after such a confrontation. If he entered, she would speak to him, and through talking might somehow convince herself to make amends with the vampire. If left alone, however, she would stew in her own anger and self-righteousness, and wake up tomorrow morning seething at Alucard's insubordinate behavior. If she wasn't sure of the marriage arrangement before, now she may go through with it just out of spite. He knew Integra well. She was a stubborn, spiteful woman, and at the brash age of nineteen, she just might marry the man just to rub the vampire's face in it.

And that would be it.

Revenge, no matter how small, was delicious.

oOo

Integra couldn't believe her ears. Alucard stood across her desk. They glared at each other for a long moment.

"How dare you question my decisions?" she asked through gritted teeth. "How dare you?!"

"I wouldn't if it wasn't such a foolish one," he snapped back, surprising her with the heat in his voice. Never in her life had he truly raised his voice to her. "I can't simply stand by and let you bring that boy into this house."

"He is not a 'boy', as you put it. He happens to be five years my senior."

Alucard smirked. She struck him across the face. He didn't even wince. Looking down, she realized she was gripping the edge of her desk so hard her fingers were trembling. She pried them loose forcefully and slumped back down in her chair.

"What do you want?" she asked, then continued before he could answer. "What am I saying? What does it matter what you want? I have to do what is best for Hellsing and if it means going through with this marriage then so be it."

"Is that all?"

She arched a brow. "And what do you mean by that?"

"I mean you're willing to throw it away that easily?"

"I'm not throwing anything away. I'm securing my position in the eyes of the Convention and ensuring Hellsing's future."

"Does he love you?"

She started. "What?"

"Just answer the question, master. Does he love you?"

"I doubt it. This isn't about love. Why are you…"

"Do you love him?"

She narrowed her eyes. He was up to something. "No."

"Are you attracted to him?"

"No."

"Do you enjoy his company?"

"I…"

"Do you truly need his help in running the organization?"

"No."

"Then why do you want to marry him?"

"I don't!"

She had brought her fist down on the desk as she spoke. A bolt of pain shot through her hand. Integra buried her face in her hands. She wasn't sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. "Alright," she said. "You win. I don't want to marry him. You win this stupid little game." She chuckled sarcastically. "Maybe it won't be so bad. He's a good guy. It would be nice to have someone around who treats me like an adult for a change."

A moment passed, then she felt his hand on hers. He gently moved her fingers from her face and she looked up. There were no jokes on his face this time.

"Do you really think it's all a game, master? Everything I've been saying to you for all these years?"

She looked away from him, but he took her chin and guided her gently back to his gaze. The back of her mind told her that she ought to order him to stop, but she simply couldn't bring herself to obey. She stood up and faced him.

"Forgive my rudeness," he said to her, "but I have waited a long time to speak my piece. That boy is not the one you should be with."

She shook her head. "No, he's not. But…"

They were standing too close, and her words trailed off when she suddenly became aware that he was still holding her hand. He leaned in. His cheek touched hers and his other hand was around her waist. Her heart beat loudly against his dead chest.

"If you don't order me to stop, master, then I shall take your silence as consent."

When her back side bumped against the desk, her tea cup fell from the edge and shattered. Neither of them made a move to pick up the pieces.


	21. Chapter 21

CH 21

1996

Walter stood at Integra's side. The Convention had come to a stony silence as all eyes focused on her. Walter was stifling his own surprise quite a bit better than the other men. He kept his face blank and focused.

"I beg your pardon?"

Integra cleared her throat. "I said 'no'."

"But I thought we had agreed that, for the best interest of…"

"This marriage will benefit no one," she cut in curtly. "I'm well-aware of what was said at our last gathering, and I believe I had agreed to give it some consideration. I have taken time to do so and here is my answer. No. Absolutely not."

She stood. Ten men looked at each other. Islands, however, made eye contact with no one. From the sneer on his face, Walter could tell that he alone approved of Integra's decision.

"You feel that I must marry to secure my position as director, but I must humbly disagree. It is only in your eyes that I must secure my position, and I believe that the last seven years should have served as more than enough proof that I am competent in my job. To marry a man I do not know would only bring unnecessary disorder and confusion into my household, thus compromise my ability to do my job.

"Perhaps you are hoping that I would eventually relinquish the position to my husband. If that's the case then I can assure you that will never happen. As far as this position goes, there is no one more suited, more experienced, and more willing to die for it than I. And, call me old fashioned, but I believe the Hellsing organization ought to be run by one who has its blood in her veins.

"And lastly, I'm sure you would all agree on this," she paused to brush her hair out of her face, "it would take a man far greater than that boy to withstand my company for a lifetime."

The meeting, needless to say, ended on a sour note. There was some clamoring, even a few insults at Integra for "breaking the deal", but she took it all in stride, smoking calmly as she waited for them to finish. When it was over, seeing she would not yield, they skulked out, heads hung low. Integra watched their cars pull away from the third floor window.

"They're like children," she said to a beleaguered Walter, "sulking because they couldn't have what they wanted."

Walter cleared his throat. "That was quite a performance, my lady."

"Thank you."

"Please prepare my afternoon tea."

He bowed. "Yes, ma'am."

With that, she returned to her office and he went to the kitchen. As he stirred the precariously cured tealeaves, Walter found his mind racing. Her rejection of the marriage had surprised him. True, she was always one to stick by her ways, and he knew she had no delusions about a happily ever after with a rich, handsome man. She wanted to carry on her father's legacy and wanted no one else in her way. It was understandable, and fitting of her character, but something wasn't quite right.

If she already knew she didn't want to share the position with anyone else, why did she agree to consider the prospect in the first place? It wasn't about avoiding confrontation. She had no trouble with confrontations. If she had lied to get them off her back for a while, she wouldn't have tortured herself for nights on end with smoking and cursing. No, she had considered it. At one point she had wanted to say "yes", but something had changed.

He considered consulting the vampire. Perhaps Alucard had seen something he had not. But he was hard to come by lately. Ever since that argument in Integra's office, Alucard had stayed out of sight. He rarely roamed the halls, ventured into the library only once a blue moon, and seemed distracted whenever Walter tried to speak to him.

Walter filled the sugar bowl with fresh cubes.

It was alright. If the vampire wanted to be alone to nurse his wounds, Walter would grant him that much privacy.

The afternoon was still young, thus a bit too early to serve tea, but Walter loaded the silver tray and headed for Integra's office anyway. If he was lucky, he figured, he could lead his master into a conversation and figure out her real reason behind turning down the marriage. With his mind thus occupied, it was quite a miracle that he did not drop the tray upon opening the door to Integra's office.

Integra lifted her eyes to him. She was half-leaning, half-sitting on her desk, facing Walter. He could only see half of her face, as her right arm was draped around Alucard's shoulder. She had dispensed of her jacket, as the vampire had with his coat. In her left hand, between two fingers, was a lit cigar.

He stood there, suddenly very aware that he didn't know what to do next as she pried her lips from the vampire's. Alucard didn't turn around to acknowledge him, just like he didn't bother to acknowledge Marian when she was in his bed over fifty years ago, just like he didn't bother to acknowledge the pain of the boy butler who waited outside his master's bedroom. His arms were wrapped around Integra's waist, and when she broke the kiss, he simply leaned down and buried himself in the crook of her neck.

Integra met Walter's eyes. She lifted the cigar to her lips, took a short drag, and uttered those eight words that added insult to a lifetime of injury.

"Would you excuse us for a moment, Walter?"

oOo

1998

The police chief was sweating. He was a big man and sweating came as a second nature, but today he was sweating more than usual. It wasn't the bodies or the blood. He'd seen plenty of that on the job. He'd been the police chief of the eastern city for over twenty years and has seen his share of wounds and deaths It wasn't the weather either, which was nearing the end of a chilly English November. No, it was something else.

The woman standing across from him blew a smoke ring into the air. She could easily be twenty or forty-five. Her skin was smooth and her face and body were young and tight, but her demeanor was one who had both walked the earth and seen hell. She was quite tall and he had initially mistaken her for a very attractive man from the distance.

"So, um," he started as the woman leveled her hard blue eyes at him. Any beauty she might have possessed was eclipsed by the overwhelming sense of authority.

"Move your men off the premises," she said.

"Miss Hellsing, I'm afraid I can't just…"

"You can and you will," she said evenly. Two of his men had paused in their work to peek over their way curiously. A stern look from her and they turned away immediately. Ten minutes ago his team had been milling around in confusion and panic, then she showed up and snapped them into a line in less than five seconds. They had escorted her sheepishly in front of him. "This is Hellsing's jurisdiction now. If you don't want to lose more of your people, I suggest you step aside."

She was making him sweat. Her stony gaze, her immovable posture, and her cold presence. All of it. She had to be less than half his age, and yet…

"Look," he said, putting up a braver front than he thought he had, "I don't know who you think you are, but I've never heard of you and I'll protect my own people."

She snickered. "Admirable, but foolish. With every breath you waste you end another life."

"At least show me some credentials."

"We have none and need none. The Royal Order of Protestant Knights serve the queen, the country, and God." She narrowed her eyes. "Step aside."

He didn't want to, but his feet moved of their own will. A second later she was strolling past him. The old army coat draped over her shoulder brushed against him and he shivered. The way she stepped past him, like he was nothing more than a pebble in the road. He considered yelling out to her, but the old gentleman who shadowed her, whom he assumed was her guard, smiled at him. It was a cool smile, a friendly warning.

He didn't know what happened. He wasn't sure what exactly the woman's group did. A few minutes later a group of people stumbled out of the quarantined area, a few of which were his own men. They were unscathed and dazed. Before he could make sense of the situation, she was next to him again.

"You ought to count yourself lucky," she said, "the next time I find you uncooperative, I will have you court-martialed."

oOo

Integra Hellsing. The Steel Virgin. The director of Hellsing.

Walter watched her from the car as she gave final instructions to the clean-up crew. Then she stopped by the fat police chief, probably to leave a parting threat. She often left parting threats, because it was the easiest way to ensure future cooperation. Walter had never seen her carry out one of these threats, mostly because she's never had to.

She had indeed grown into a powerful leader. Those of Hellsing followed her without questions, and the murmured suspicions at her competency around the Round Table had diminished. When she spoke up, few questioned her, and when she stood, all eyes followed. With an iron fist she crushed the rebellious straggling vampires of England, and even fought to expand the organization's jurisdiction to the country's outskirts and borders.

He turned on the heater as she approached, then exited to open the back door for her. It was a show, really, perfectly choreographed to instill the sense of power in all who beheld her.

"Two casualties," she said after he settled in the driver's seat.

"Sounds like a success, my lady."

"Not exactly the word I'd use."

"You shouldn't fret over such small things."

Walter pursed his lips as the vampire cut in. He had been waiting for her in the back seat, as he usually did. There was no blood on his clothing, not even a stain. The only evidence of the carnage that took place in the freezing streets was the lone spot on the fingertip of his glove.

Integra sighed. "You still call human lives small things, don't you?"

"Necessary sacrifices in this business. Did you not make peace with that fact long ago?"

She nodded as he moved closer to her. "Yes, I suppose I did."

Walter pulled away from the scene and drove back toward the mansion. With practice, he had become rather skilled at turning a blind eye to them, no matter how close they were. Not once for nearly three years did he speak out of turn, or act awkwardly, or even acknowledge their actions. It was because of this that he was the only one who knew of their affair. Only in front of him did they dare to sit close together, to laugh out loud at each other's words, and to steal a kiss when the moment was right.

Neither Integra nor Alucard directly addressed their relationship to him. Nor did he ask. It was a leap of faith that they took in him that both flattered and disgusted Walter. It meant they trusted in him without a shadow of a doubt, and it meant they thought his opinion of the ordeal meant nothing.

He saw them everywhere. They were discreet but he was skilled. In front of others, they put on a spectacular show, the master and her obedient servant. In fact, he could not recall seeing them even physically touch each other whenever others were present. But in private, in the corner of the library early in the morning, in her office after midnight, in the deep dungeons where no one ventured, he saw them.

She was still a virgin. He knew Integra too well to assume she would put herself at risk in the line of duty for physical pleasure, despite having seen her blouse tossed carelessly in Alucard's open coffin more than once.

Sometimes Alucard propositioned her. He kept offering her the chance to spend eternity with him. It was as good a marriage proposal. Walter could never gauge how serious he was, but it didn't matter as Integra always shot him down with a sharp "no".

Sometimes he told her he loved her. Walter had never heard her say it back, but the look they exchanged said it all. She didn't want to say it, because it went against her principles and duty.

Everywhere. Everywhere he looked. Everywhere he turned. It seemed they were everywhere. Every look they exchanged seemed to say how much they yearned for each other, and every word they spoke seemed to carry a hidden meaning.

He pulled up in front of the mansion. Integra pried herself out of Alucard's arms, ignoring the vampire's disappointed expression, and exited without a word. Alucard stayed for a brief moment before vanishing into the shadows, just long enough for Walter to see the smile on his face.

It was the smile he himself had spent his entire youth trying and failing to find.


	22. Chapter 22

NOTE: This is the last chapter. The story is not finished, but I cannot keep going anymore. You can pretty much guess what happens from here on. I am officially retired from fanfiction as of this chapter. It's been a great ride. Thanks for everything :-)

In the mean time, I am going forward full throttle pursuing a career as a novelist. Please stop by my livejournal and support me on my quest to obtain 100 rejection notices.

Again, thank you for reading.

CH 22

1999

1999 saw to an important milestone in Hellsing. In this year, exactly ten years after the death of Arthur Hellsing, a new face arrived within the mansion's walls. Walter witnesses, with mild surprised and a good amount of curiosity as many others did, the arrival of a new face.

Walter regarded her with a careful eye that first night Alucard walked through the door carrying the girl, covered in blood and wrapped in a sheet. Her face was caked with stained with dried crimson and her hair caked with dirt. Her gaze was confused and dazed, and her head lulled about on her thin neck as Alucard walked, as if having trouble focusing her energy, even only to lift her head. Try as he might, he couldn't understand why Alucard had brought her back. It had taken him a second to notice her red eyes.

Alucard had dumped the girl unceremoniously in the east hall. She could barely stand, regarding her surroundings like a startled bird. Walter studied her up and down, turning a quizzical glance to her master.

"I feel I must ask about this," he said to Alucard, "but I'm at a loss as to where to start."

"You can start by cleaning her up," Alucard replied. "Integra will throw a fit if she tracks any more mud on the floor."

"You think that is what she will pitch a fit over?"

Alucard only sneered and did not reply as he vanished into the walls. Walter led the dazed girl by the hand to a washroom and drew her a bath. The sight of the warm water seemed to bring her to her senses. She looked at Walter and murmured shyly, "thank you."

As he left the girl to her bath, Walter headed upstairs. He knew where Alucard was headed and damned if he wasn't going to watch this play out. In the back of his mind he assessed briefly the fact that eavesdropping had somehow worked its way into his daily routine. It didn't bother him as much as he thought it would. Perhaps all those years as a spy had hardened him against guilt.

When he arrived at Integra's office, the red moon had drifted behind a sliver of dark cloud, and she was smoking. The cavernous room was saturated with the scent of tobacco and tea. Standing just behind the door, he could make out the actions of the two inside by their shadows. Integra took the cigar out of her mouth but did not turn from the window.

"I don't recall sending for you," she said.

Alucard was surely allowing himself a smirk behind her back. "You didn't have to."

She blew a smoke ring into the air and faced him, piercing blue eyes leveled darkly at his face. "Where did you leave that police girl?"

"Walter is tending to her for the moment."

"You have a lot of explaining to do." Shadows crept over her face. "For old times sake I will wait until you finish before I throttle you for that blatant act of irresponsibility and defiance. And remove your glasses when you are in my presence."

"With all due respect, master." Alucard was picking his words carefully. Walter could tell. She only picked at his appearance when she was annoyed or angry. At the moment, she was both. "I hardly consider it an act of defiance."

"I never gave you orders to turn other humans."

"Which is why I cannot defy them."

A chortle. "You think you are clever, vampire. Perhaps you are clever enough to explain your reasons for turning that… child." She practically bit down on that last words.

"She is no more than five years your junior, Integra."

"But she is inexperienced." He could tell she was agitated at his comment regarding her age. She hated to be reminded that she was young. "Answer my question. Why did you do it?"

He chuckled. "Why indeed?"

"Don't play with me, Alucard."

The vampire shook his head. "I don't know. A whimsy perhaps. But do not worry, I take full responsibility for the police girl."

"I should expect so." Sitting down behind her desk, she drew another breath from the cigar. "Keep in mind that should she prove to be more trouble than she's worth, you alone will put the bullet in her head."

He nodded. "Yes, master."

"And whatever you expect to do with her… keep it down and out of sight."

Walter could almost taste the bitterness in her voice. She was wounded. Wounded in a way no bullet or blade could accomplish. "What is it that you expect me to do with her?" he heard the vampire ask.

"I'm sure I don't know, nor wish to know. Just keep it away from rest of the household, and do not it let it distract you from your duty."

"You think that is what I turned the police girl for?" A short laugh. "You think so little of me, Integra."

"Am I to assume that you brought that young woman into this house and had given no thought to letting her share your coffin? And here I thought the brides you took were for carnal pleasures. Do you deny it?"

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were jealous." He leaned against the large mahogany desk. She said nothing. "Here I thought you were above such things. Are you worried that she would take my attention away from you? I assure you that will not be the case."

"Get out." He didn't move. She put out her cigar in the ashtray on her desk. "Get out of my office. I've had enough of your foolishness for one night. I don't intend to sit here and listen to you make jokes. If you wish to keep that policewoman around, see to it that she is properly trained for duty. I won't have her slowing our people down."

He straightened. "I will leave if that is what you wish for, master, but not before you allow me to wish you good night properly."

She scoffed. "You don't get to make decisions."

Rounding the side of the desk, he came before her, and knelt in front of her chair. She looked down at him. "I can wait all night, master."

Walter half expected her to object, perhaps order him out of the room with a swift kick to the head. She was in prime position for it, after all, and it wouldn't be the first time. He wondered if the vampire had finally pushed her too far this time with the policewoman. But after a moment, she slipped the glove off of her left hand.

Alucard took her hand and kissed each fingertip gently. She watched without a hint of emotion on her face. Then he kissed her palm, then her wrist. When she didn't pull away, he dared to draw a bit closer.

She pressed her palms to his shoulders, stopping his lips an inch from her cheek. "No," she said. "Don't do this."

He sighed, smiling a disappointed smile. "You really are angry with me."

"Get out," she said again.

"Does the offer for a throttling still stand?"

She laughed bitterly and looked away from him. "It's all a joke to you, isn't it? This whole thing, your life, mine, hers. It's all fun and games, nothing's serious. But I suppose when one has lived as long as you, nothing's important anymore."

He stood, shaking his head. "It isn't often that I point out your mistakes, master, but this time I must. You assume far too much. You assumed that I take nothing to heart because my heart does not beat, you assume that even though I kneel before you every night, you are not important to me, and you assume that I took the policewoman for a bride."

"Did you not?"

He bowed, and put his hat back on. "It is as I have told to you many times before, master. Should you wish to accept it, the position of my bride is reserved for you and only you."

When Walter knocked on the washroom again, the police girl had finished cleaning her herself and was dressed in the baggy pajamas he had found for her. For a brief moment, the butler wondered how Integra would react if he gave the girl some of her clothes.

"Come," he told the girl, "I will show you where you can stay for the night. The mistress of the house will see to you tomorrow."

"Thank you," she said timidly. "Um…"

"Walter is fine." He gave her his most disarming smile. "What is your name, dear?"

"Seras," she said. "Seras Victoria."

oOo

She was a beautiful girl. Nineteen years old, a bob of strawberry blond hair a top of an open, honest smile. Her eyes were wide and clear like pools of water. Her voice was gentle and melodious. It carried through the house's stuffy halls like a refreshing breeze. It also didn't hurt, of course, that she was curvy as sin.

Having her take up residence within the mansion stirred many questions and gossip. The soldiers wondered if she was as powerful as Alucard, and whether she took the role of a ward or a lover to him. The servants were weary of her, but less than the elder vampire due to her seemingly harmless appearance. She was both timid and tough, bright and adorably dim, and charming to no end, though she seem unable to realize this fact.

She had family and no friends. No one searched for her when she went missing. Having being an orphan himself, Walter felt saddened for her. In some ways, he felt, they had much in common.

The way she regarded Alucard, for example. It didn't escape his eyes that the girl was infatuated with the elder vampire, the one who offered her a second chance to live and walk the earth. She padded after Alucard like a puppy, bright eyes brimming with awe. Truth be told, Walter had no idea whether Alucard would actually betray Integra. If nothing else, her wrath would surely be worth than hell to contend with.

Still, it was true that Seras' presence drove a wedge between the them. More than once Walter witnessed Alucard offer his affection before turning in for the way, only to be met with a cold shoulder, and Integra appeared more irritable than usual, especially around the police girl.

He wondered if Seras noticed this. He wondered if she longed for a chance to be with her master. He wondered if she felt the same way he did back then, longing for someone whose chosen companion she cannot compete with.

oOo

Blood on the walls. Torn pictures. Upended furniture. Blood on the floor. Broken vases. Discarded weapons. Blood on the ceiling.

The Valentine brothers had been nothing if not thorough. The casualties had been devastating. It had been over a week and they still haven't gotten the stains off, and probably won't be able to for months. The walls will have to be re-painted. Seeing so many good soldiers die panged Walter, but he was also a bit impressed by Luke and Jan. Those morons actually managed to do some damage. He was surprised they didn't shoot themselves in the foot tripping on the doorstep.

They definitely weren't the best Millenium had to offer. He could tell from the get-go. They were loud, arrogant, and unskilled. The only thing they could do was shoot and kill, mostly from pointblank range. The elder brother packed some real heat according to Alucard, but the younger one was nothing but an over-pierced punk. Walter strolled through the mansion's ravaged halls, surveying the damage as the clean-up crew finished their work.

The Major was making his move. Something big was about to happen and he could feel it in his bones. For the millionth time in his life he questioned whether he had chosen the right side. How the tides turn with time. At the moment, he felt, looking around, the tables were about even.

He still knew what he wanted, though. That one last chance to prove himself in Alucard's eyes.

Integra had wanted to stay in the mansion, despite the fact that it was not in livable condition. In addition to the rest of the house laying in ruins, her bedroom had been ransacked. It seemed Jan Valentine took some pleasure in riffling through her undergarments before launching his final attack. Walter had seen the disgust in her eyes when she turned away from the bedroom without a word. She had gone to her office not long ago, and he had not heard a peep for nearly half an hour. After some debate, he decided to go check and make sure she wasn't taken things too hard. She was, after all, still young.

She was, however, not in her office. After some searching he found her on the top floor standing on the west balcony, leaning against the railings and gazing out into the city. In her hand was a half-empty bottle. Hearing his footsteps, she turned unsteadily. He bowed.

"Are you doing alright, m'lady?"

She looked at him unevenly. "It was my fault," she said with a bitter chuckle and looked at the bottle. It was vintage wine, one of the several Arthur had received as a gift many years ago from some sniveling toad trying to win his favor. It was easily worth five to seven thousand pounds, and Integra was guzzling it like it was cheap beer. Walter supposed there weren't going to be better occasions for it.

She looked broken. For the first time since her father's death, Integra looked broken. Though her eyes were still sharp and her expression hard and impenetrable, she looked like a shell of her usual self, teetering on the point of shattering to pieces. He couldn't blame her. She had seen too much. The fact that she held out long enough to oversee the clean-up and speak to the irate Convention members was nothing short of a miracle.

"Integra…"

"I made a mistake," she said, her blond mane untamed atop her head. "So many people died because of my incompetence. How will I make it up to them, Walter?"

It took him a moment to realize that she was actually addressing the question at him. She was drunk. She didn't drink much as a habit and the half bottle of wine she'd already consumed was probably already pushing her over the edge.

"I don't know."

Walter started. The words hadn't come out of his mouth. He turned to see Alucard appearing from the shadows. With one gloved hand the vampire covered the mouth of the bottle, which was once again making its way toward Integra's lips. She regarded him with vague surprised.

"I don't know," Alucard said again, "but this isn't helping. I don't think your father would approve of your drinking like this just because one thing went wrong."

She glared at him, as best she could in her inebriated state. "One thing?" she said darkly. "You call this one thing? Are you calling all of those lives lost in this house one thing?"

She made a move forward as if to hit him, but stumbled instead. Alucard caught her and held her up. "What I know is this," he said, "one, your father would be sorely disappointed that his daughter handles spirits so poorly, and two, he would never let small things slow him down. And to him, they're all small things."

Integra shook her head woefully. "I can't do that," she whispered. "They're not small things. This isn't a small thing. It's driving me crazy that you don't care about them."

He lifted her chin with one hand. "You're right," he said, "I don't care about them."

Walter had taken the opportunity to back out of the room. He heard the crisp sound of glass shattering as Integra dropped the bottle as the two's lips met. He slid out into the hall and nearly ran into a bob of blond hair.

"Oh!" Seras gasped. Her face was flushed and she looked upset and agitated. As he looked down at her, she wouldn't meet his eyes. "Excuse me," she said nervously, and ran past him down the hall before he could respond.

Walter watched her go and sighed. He could feel her pain, he thought. She must have seen also, how her master brushed aside all others for the same of one woman. The poor girl must feel slighted, worthless, in the eyes of the one she desired.

I understand, he thought. I understand.

oOo

Seras felt so embarrassed. She had been spying where she shouldn't and got caught, by nice, old, gentlemanly Walter no less. She was blushing furiously as she descended the stairs to the dungeons.

She had always suspected there was something between her master and his master. They were, after all, such a compatible couple. Both so powerful and strong in the face of danger, so calm, knowledgeable, and collected. Not until tonight, however, were her suspicions confirmed.

Like Walter, she had thought she ought to comfort Miss Integra. She felt bad. Miss Integra had seen her in the midst of losing control, slaughtering what were once her own comrades. She wanted to apologize and make amends of some sort, especially since Miss Integra seemed to already dislike her for intruding in the house. She hadn't expected to see her master beating her to the task.

From the hall, she had watched with stunned curiosity as her master comforted Miss Integra in a soothing tone he never used with any other. And then they had kissed. Seras had only see that sort of kissing in movies, so tender and romantic.

And then, without warning, her mind suddenly drifted to the past few days. They had been in the process of interviewing mercenaries as a temporary replacement for the troops. There had been a group called the Wild Geese. They were coarse, unruly men with loud, friendly voices and leering eyes. And their leader…

She had blushed at the thought of him, though she didn't want to admit it. He was young, with a wild eye and an eye patch. His hair was red as the setting sun. When she first entered the room, he had fixated his gaze on her, looking her up and down. And although she knew he was checking her out like she was a piece of meat, she couldn't help but fidget a little. She would never, ever, admit it out loud, but he was, well, so very cute.

And a tiny part of her mind wondered if he would kiss her like her master was kissing Miss Integra.

Then, of course, she didn't even notice Walter coming down the hall, and had been caught with her face flushed and her head in the gutters. Self-conscious and humiliated, she had run off.

Stupid, she scolded herself, stupid, stupid, stupid, while helplessly conjuring up more images of the dashing mercenary.


End file.
